


A Pirate's Life

by helenmaldon



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst, Asthma, Comedy, Friendship, M/M, References to Sex, Romance, some blood and violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 11:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10898514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helenmaldon/pseuds/helenmaldon
Summary: Arashi on the high seas.





	1. Chapter 1

The SS Maine sped quietly along the open seas. Ninomiya Kazunari, the ship’s surgeon, approached the tall figure leaning over the ship’s railing. Nino carefully rearranged his features before calling out to the man, trying to smooth out the grin that instantly spread across his face at the sight of his friend. Suppressing his smile was particularly difficult because his friend was currently wearing an expression of ecstatic delight (which Nino privately thought of as “Aiba’s faceful of blissful idiocy”).

Before he could speak, however, Aiba cried out, “Nino! Hurry over here! There are dolphins swimming beside us!” The two men watched as dolphins frolicked alongside the ship. “Don’t you wish you could dive in and join them? They seem to be winking at me.”

“Aiba, if you jump over the side of the ship in order to swim with the winking dolphins, I am not diving in after you. I’d let them carry you to the Bermuda triangle.” Disregarding his cold words, Aiba threw an arm around his friend’s shoulders, releasing one of his distinctive breathy giggles. Nino failed to conceal his pleasure in the companionable embrace and rested his head against Aiba’s arm.

Nino was more surprised than anyone at the close friendship that had formed between him and the ship’s gentleman naturalist, Aiba Masaki. Nino had been irate at the news that he would be sharing his cabin, and he had been even less enthusiastic when confronted with Aiba’s gangly, far-too-large-for-their-narrow-cabin figure, especially since Aiba was tricked out in the rough costume of an explorer, his pockets and bags bulging with journals, guidebooks, scientific instruments, and butterfly nets (Nino couldn’t imagine what butterflies he thought he’d be catching aboard ship). 

Nino was further aggravated (if that was possible) by Aiba’s position as the son of a wealthy country squire. While Nino had slaved amidst the filthy London streets to establish his surgery and was now forced by his cash-strapped state to accept a medical appointment in South America, Aiba had voluntarily abandoned what Nino imagined as an idyllic, comfortable, and (most importantly) _wealthy_ family estate for a hare-brained scheme to explore the Amazon.

And if Nino resented Aiba’s wealth, he was even more uncomfortable with Aiba’s evident affection for Nino (“Nino! How delightful to have this opportunity of conversing! Tell me, what would you say is the most grotesque surgery you’ve performed?”), as well as Aiba’s penchant for walking around in the nude when their cabin grew too hot. More than once a bewildered Nino had opened their cabin door to discover a naked Aiba, who would greet Nino with a cheerful, “Two shillings for the post!”

However, Nino’s opinion of Aiba had changed after the ship had run into several days of storms. Always uneasy aboard ship, Nino had been laid flat by the ship’s violent rocking, able to do little more than close his eyes and pray for his suffering to end. To Nino’s amazement, Aiba cared for him as tenderly as though he were his nurse. At first, Nino tried to protest, weakly attempting to push away Aiba’s hands as he reached out to wipe the vomit from his face or offer him a glass of water. But Aiba, apparently unaffected by the swaying of the ship (Nino had often noted in his practice that perfect fools usually had the soundest constitutions), would simply slap his hands away and continue caring for him. 

Nino could never have believed that a gentleman (or really anyone, for that matter) could clean up vomit so cheerfully, or that he’d ever allow anyone to rub soothing circles across his back and sing him to sleep. During the stormy nights when Nino not only emptied his stomach several times but feared that the ship would sink, Aiba had stayed up with him and shared stories of the exotic animals he hoped to encounter and of his boyhood roaming the grounds of his family estate, investigating water-beetles and collecting butterflies; Aiba required only a few answering groans from Nino to continue talking. Nino came to admire Aiba’s scientific curiosity, though he remained firm in his belief that Aiba was at least seriously disturbed if not mildly pathological (what normal person would think of holding a “contest of speed, strength, and will” between chestnuts and pinecones?).

From these harrowing nights, a steadfast friendship developed between the two men, much to the amusement of the rest of the ship’s crew, as their friendship seemed to consist primarily in Nino sarcastically rebuffing Aiba’s friendly overtures and Aiba listening absently to Nino’s complaints about the weather, food, and condition of the small merchant ship they sailed on. Despite these apparent differences, however, Nino knew that he and Aiba were surprisingly similar, sharing a love of drinking songs and unceasing amusement at the word “seamen.”

And today even Nino could find little to complain about as he rested against Aiba and listened to his enthusiastic ramblings while they enjoyed the blue, cloudless sky and fresh sea breeze. Eventually, the men broke apart so that Aiba could record the dolphin appearance in his observation journal, and while Aiba scribbled Nino turned to survey the deck. Nino admired the beautiful figure of Jun, the ship’s unofficial navigator, who was currently squinting into the distance on the opposite side of the deck. 

Jun served as the ships “unofficial” navigator because he lacked a formal education and little experience as a sailor, making any merchant company unlikely to hire him. However, he’d come as a package deal with the ship’s first mate and official navigator, Toma, who’d picked a starving Jun up off the streets of Liverpool two years ago. Toma had trained Jun as a ship navigator, and Jun had quickly surpassed his teacher, seeming to possess a preternatural ability to read the stars and guide the ship to the safest, fastest course. Once he’d learned how to read (a struggle that Toma swore had almost turned his hair white---while Jun was a fast learner, he also grew frustrated quickly, and their lessons were typically interrupted by an overturned table or a book thrown across the room), Jun’s skills had improved at an even faster rate, and he made a serious study of navigation, geography, and astronomy. The pair grew highly prized in commercial circles as a pair of reliable seamen (a compliment which Aiba and Nino never failed to remind them of).

Nino studied Jun’s strong, handsome features---his thick, dark eyebrows and soft lips---deciding that it was unsurprising that Toma had noticed Jun amid the Liverpool muck, though Toma swore he’d only noticed Jun after his extraordinarily clumsy attempt to pick his pocket, which had resulted in Jun’s hand squeezing Toma’s ass. Jun refused to discuss his life before his meeting with Toma, and gossip among the crew suggested that Jun possessed gypsy blood, an image he seemed to enjoy cultivating with his scowling brow and habit of removing his shirt at a moment’s notice to strut about the ship with his jeweled dagger at his side (a gift from Toma), barking orders at anyone he judged to be slacking. 

Nino, however, had quickly ceased to be intimidated by Jun after treating him several times; not only did Jun speak to Nino with great respect for his profession, but Nino had also discovered that Jun was an incorrigible hypochondriac, constantly worried about developing scurvy or that the tickle in his throat might be the first sign of consumption. 

It was even harder to be frightened by Jun when one considered the longing, lovesick looks he sent Toma’s way, though Nino seemed to be the only one on board (including Toma) who noticed. But Nino was used to noticing things that other people didn’t.

Jun was unusually perceptive too, in his way, and right now he was clearly displeased by what he spied on the horizon. “What’s troubling you, Jun?” Nino called. “Toma and Shun having another private meeting in the captain’s quarters?”

Jun scowled but continued staring into the distance. “No,” he mumbled under his breath, “But that ship shouldn’t be there.”

Nino grew alarmed at Jun’s lack of a retort to his teasing, and he followed his gaze to a distant ship, larger than their own, that seemed to be approaching them. “Surely other ships travel these routes?”

“Yes, but something’s wrong. That ship is moving too quickly. I noticed it last night but didn’t think anything of it. And now it’s this close this morning. How did I miss it?” Jun let out a low growl of frustration.

“They may be headed in the same direction as us. Or perhaps they need help?”

“Then why have they not raised a flag or sent up a signal?” Nino and Jun exchanged a look, both unwilling to say aloud what both were thinking. Jun turned away first. “I’ll tell Toma to shift course and increase speed.”

Nino remained by the railing to watch the approaching ship, which he could see more clearly with every passing moment. Soon, he felt the SS Maine pick up speed, and he noticed that the ship behind them increased its pace accordingly. Nino noticed that the brig possessed a row of canons. And within half an hour, the ship had raised a black flag depicting a mountain topped by a threatening storm cloud.

By now, Nino was not the only concerned passenger; most of the crew was watching from the deck, and a cry of fear went up at the raising of the flag. Nino glanced back toward Aiba, who was somehow still occupied with his journal, carefully reexamining his attempt to draw a dolphin. Heart pounding, Nino pushed through the crowd to reach Jun, who stood beside Toma at the ship’s rail. 

Jun saw the question in Nino’s eyes before he asked. “It’s certainly pirates.”

Nino tried to quell his rising panic and speak calmly. “But we’re a small ship, mainly letters and a few passengers, a few goods. It cannot be worth their while to capture us.”

Toma answered him, his eyes (for once) absolutely serious as he steered the ship. “They’ll want captives, perhaps for ransom or as slaves.” Nino felt a choking sensation in his throat. “I recognize the flag. It’s the SS Storm. Captained by the Fisher King but controlled by his first mate, the Scarlet Sailor. They’re the most danger and ruthless pirates in this part of the Atlantic, and they possess the fastest ship of its size.”

Nino gaped. “So what do we do?”

“Try to outrun them,” Jun answered grimly. “And if you have a sword or a pistol---or even a dinner knife---I suggest that you apprise yourself of it now.” Nino turned to find the SS Storm gaining on them and, even more worryingly, readying its canons. Jun slammed his hand against the wheel and swore fluently for several minutes.

“…boot-licking seadogs!” he finished. “Nino!” he barked. Nino started from his daze. “Go find Aiba and protect yourselves.” Nino nodded, swiftly taking off across the deck.

Jun cursed himself again as weak tears of frustration came to his eyes. “I’m so sorry, sir,” he whispered.

Toma covered Jun’s hand, which rested on the wheel, with his own and squeezed, his eyes remaining fixed on the ship’s course.

“It’s not your fault, Jun. And I’m glad you’re here with me now.”

 

*

 

Nino crashed into a wide-eyed Aiba, who had clearly been looking for him as well. The two pushed their way through frantic crew and passengers; in the background, the tall figure of Captain Shun strode about shouting orders, attempting to organize his men to defend the ship as the Storm bore down upon them.

“Danger, Nino. Very, very danger,” Aiba panted as the two reached a small open space and stopped to catch their breath. Nino reached up and seized Aiba’s shoulders, giving the taller man as firm a shake as he could manage.

“Don’t lose your wits now,” he spoke fiercely, “it’s not as if you have any to spare.” Aiba seemed to recover himself, and his lips quirked up in a half-smile. He nodded at Nino’s words. “Jun says we should arm ourselves. We’ll go to the cabin and get our pistols, then return.” Aiba nodded again, but as Nino turned to head towards the cabin he felt a restraining hand on his shoulder. He turned back to meet Aiba’s intent, warm brown eyes, which were beginning to kindle with (Nino groaned inwardly at the realization) a spirit of adventure. 

Aiba must have recognized the fear in Nino’s dark eyes, because he offered him his hand and spoke confidently, “Brothers in arms?”

Normally Nino would have laughed or simply rolled his eyes at one of Aiba’s theatrical gestures, but now he simple seized his hand hastily and allowed himself to be pulled into what he had heard Aiba refer to fondly as a “manly embrace.” “Yes, yes, brothers in arms,” he muttered into Aiba’s shoulder before they broke apart and took off running toward their cabin. 

 

*

 

Aiba and Nino dimly heard cries of terror on deck as they desperately ransacked the cabin for the missing keys to Aiba’s locked trunk, which contained the brace of pistols.

“Damn it Aiba!” Nino shouted as he tore through the bedclothes. “How could you lose your keys?”

“I think I was using it as a bookmark,” Aiba mumbled as he shook out the stack of books beside his bed. Aiba suddenly leapt from the floor, his flushed face triumphant. “Ha! Found it!” he cried, shaking the ring of keys in front of Nino’s face.

Nino snatched the keys from his hand and headed towards the trunk when Aiba suddenly froze at the sight of his scattered books.

Aiba’s face drained of color. “My God…my journal…”

“What now?” Nino cried.

“My journal…I dropped it in the crowd and left it on deck.” Aiba bolted toward the door. 

Nino abandoned the heavy iron keys to seize the back of Aiba’s coat. “Wait!” He was close to throttling Aiba in frustration. “You can’t storm the deck empty-handed, you son of a drunken country squire gone to seed!” 

Aiba turned back to Nino with a pleading look in his eyes and spoke with quiet desperation. “I can’t lose a moment. The pirates haven’t overtaken us yet, and this is my last chance. The book will be destroyed in the fighting. I’ll quickly seize it and return to our room. It’s my life’s work, Nino!” he shouted the last sentence over his shoulder as sprinted down the corridor.

“Damn you Aiba!” Nino shouted after him, “what happened to that ‘brothers in arms’ nonsense?” Nino retrieved the keys and groaned, smashing the ring against his forehead. “At least tell me which key opens the lock before you run away,” he whispered furiously.

Nino hastily began working the keys in the locks. As he struggled to find the right key, the ship shuddered to a halt with a sickening thud. Shouts, the firing of canons and the discharge of pistols erupted in the distance. Sweat poured down Nino’s face, and his clothing was soaked by the time he located the right key and opened the trunk to uncover Aiba’s pistols at the bottom. The sounds of pistol fire, clanging swords, and screams of pain increased in volume. “That idiot just gave up his life for a copybook a child could have written!” Nino cried out loudly to no one, hoping that his shout would drown out his thoughts of what might be happening to Aiba.

Feeling better with a loaded pistol in each hand, Nino hurriedly made his way to the deck (was it wrong that he was rather enjoying the feeling of wielding the shining weapons?). By the time Nino reached the passage from the cabins to the ship’s deck, however, his stomach began to turn as an eerie silence descended over the ship. Nino slowed and pressed himself against the passage wall where he could command a view of the deck without being seen.

Nino swore quietly at the scene that confronted him: the crew cowering beneath an assembly of filthy, vicious-looking sailors; Toma and Shun kneeling in the center of the deck, their hands tied and swords at their throats. Jun was nowhere to be seen.   
But Nino’s eyes were arrested by two figures: first, the man who held the sword to Toma’s neck. He was even smaller than Nino and, frankly speaking, absolutely adorable. His eye was remarkably calm---even sleepy---and his face relaxed, belying his violent posture. His right eye was covered by a black patch that, rather than rendering his appearance more threatening, somehow contributed to his overall aspect of a furry woodland creature. He was dressed in an elaborate coat of dark blue with rows of gold buttons running down the sleeves, white pantaloons decorated with a design of bright red flowers (Nino couldn’t remember ever having seen a pair of flowered pantaloons before), and shiny black boots. There was a froth of lace at his throat, and he wore one of the largest and most impressive Napoleonic hats that Nino had ever seen, clearly stolen from a high-ranking member of the British Royal Navy.

Nino tore his gaze from this intriguing figure to the man currently attempting to bind the hands of his struggling friend. Nino gaped as he watched the man roughly bind Aiba’s hands, forcing Aiba to his knees with a hit from the handle of his sword while still maintaining his grip on the taller man’s wrists. He pulled tightly at the ropes and knotted them with assurance. At first glance, the man reminded Nino of nothing so much as one of Aiba’s childish drawings of a chipmunk (Aiba’s favorite animal, he’d informed Nino), but as his gaze moved from the man’s chipmunk-like (though admittedly beautiful) face to his clothing, Nino found himself aghast at the man’s choice of outfit for a hot summer day. He wore not one but two decorated red coats, the inner coat fully-buttoned to display its plethora of gold decoration and the outer coat left open. “Double coat?” Nino wondered. “The Scarlet Sailor,” he realized.

While Nino gaped, the Scarlet Sailor withdrew a small pouch from the pocket of his outer coat and proceeded to dump its shiny, ash-like contents over Aiba. Aiba fell instantly into a coughing fit, choking and sputtering violently. Nino’s heart constricted as he recognized the substance as gunpowder. Even if anyone dared to take a shot at the Scarlet Sailor, there was a chance that Aiba would be consumed in a fiery explosion as well. The Scarlet Sailor reached into his pocket again and produced a match, holding it up high for all on deck to see. He kicked Aiba’s immobilized form to the deck. Nino noticed a trickle of blood making its way down the side of Aiba’s face.

The Scarlet Sailor smiled pleasantly, sending a chill down Nino’s spine. Confident of the ship’s attention, he spoke in a surprisingly cultured voice, his pronunciation impeccable: “My dear fellows. Now that we’ve all calmed ourselves, you will excuse me if I take this opportunity to deliver a modest request. Comply, and this nightmare will be over sooner than you can imagine. Deny me information…” he paused to step back from Aiba and spark the match against the side of his boot, “and this pretty young man will go up in flames.” He hovered the lit match meaningfully over Aiba before blowing it out.

Nino’s eyes darted to the man in blue---the Fisher King? But the King hardly seemed to be listening. He was even using his free hand to scratch the side of his (remarkably tan) nose.

Nino switched his gaze back to the Scarlet Sailor as he resumed his speech. “My ship is in need of a doctor, and I have it on good authority that this ship carries a capable surgeon. Reveal yourself, and I leave the rest of the crew unharmed.”

Of course the ship would be attacked by pirates. Of course Aiba would fly into the midst of the fray unarmed to retrieve his stupid journal. Of course the pirates would be looking for a surgeon. Nino had thought that his seasickness was sent as a punishment for his sins, but now he began to think that Providence had even bigger plans for him. Was it because he’d left England without paying his tab at the local tavern? Because he’d once read that book on magic, the devil’s craft? Was it the three sisters he’d courted, possibly at the same time? Or was it because while walking down the passage, even though he’d been genuinely worried for Aiba, he’d also been thinking about what a dashing figure he must be cutting with his matching pistols?

In any case, Nino began to fear that some diabolical agency was also at work as Aiba, who’d been breathing erratically for the past few minutes, began rasping for breath. Nino quickly diagnosed the beginnings of an asthma attack. No one on deck spoke, and Aiba’s breathing grew louder and more labored to Nino’s ears.

Nino tossed his pistols to the side and stepped out into the blazing sunlight. Keeping his expression cold, he stared directly into the sparkling eyes of the Scarlet Sailor. “I am this ship’s surgeon. Ninomiya Kazunari.”

The Scarlet Sailor flashed him another bright, chilling smile. “Delighted.” He made a slight bow. “Ninomiya, I hope this will be the start of a beautiful friendship.”


	2. Chapter 2

Aiba knew perfectly well that returning to the deck unarmed was a foolish decision. While Nino believed him ignorant of the danger, he did appreciate the risk he was taking. But Nino couldn’t possibly comprehend the importance of his journal---his constant companion since he’d left the security of his family home. And while Nino’s friendship had relieved the solitude and sense of displacement he’d felt ever since he’d left his estate (when he arrived in London, he had no idea how to hail a cab and had never eaten in a restaurant, and within minutes he had given all the money in his pockets to a dirty little girl selling flowers), he couldn’t possibly abandon his oldest friend, which held the copious notes, observations, and drawings he’d made in preparation for his journey and continued to add to each day.

What Aiba hadn’t counted on was the incredible speed of the SS Storm. Sooner than he could have thought possible, the ship had halted and the pirate crew of the Storm was streaming over boards lowered between the two ships, swords drawn and guns blazing.

Aiba grappled his way through crowd, easily throwing off a few smaller men in his path. Finally, he spied his journal. It was flopped open sadly, its binding clearly broken and its pages ruffling in the breeze. 

Aiba moved to snatch it when he recognized the distinctive purple flash of the jeweled handle of Jun’s dagger in his peripheral vision. Spinning around, Aiba caught sight of the most enormous black hat he’d ever seen, bobbing up and down in a most fascinating manner as its owner parried the thrusts of Jun’s dagger with his sword. Dressed in dark blue, the man avoided Jun’s strikes easily, his glittering sword knocking Jun to the ground with an elegant blur of activity.

Aiba noticed that the man fought with a content half-smile across his face, and his swordplay seem unaffected by his loss of one eye. Aiba wondered how he fought so well with no depth perception. A series of experiments flashed rapidly through Aiba’s mind---might the loss of one eye improve concentration? Lesson the terror of battle? What if he wore the patch on his left eye? Or (Aiba began warming to the idea) what if one affixed a spyglass to one’s eye, or both eyes, and attempted a fencing match?  
However, the sight of the pirate’s steel pressing against the throat of a prostrate Jun brought Aiba back to his senses, and before he had a chance to properly consider the best course of action (in Aiba’s opinion, a highly-overrated cognitive process), he leapt onto the blue pirate’s back and pulled him backwards.

He landed with a crash on the deck, almost suffocated by the very surprised and squirming pirate on top of him. Unable to think of any other way to disarm him, he seized the top of the black hat and shoved it down as hard as he could over the pirate’s face, blocking his vision. The pirate stilled with a quiet, “Eh?”

Jun flashed Aiba a grateful smile as he leapt to his feet, seized his fallen dagger and re-entered the fray. Aiba rolled the (now strangely passive) pirate off him and bolted for his journal.

…Only to find himself staring at the glossy black boots of the Scarlet Sailor. Before Aiba could react, a hand seized his throat and jerked him upward, sharp brown eyes rapidly scanning his shocked features. “You’ll do nicely,” he concluded, in a deep voice that seemed to vibrate all the way down to his clenching fingertips and into Aiba’s throat.

Aiba slipped his arms inside the Scarlet Sailor’s own and jerked them outward, breaking the Sailor’s grasp on his throat. He delivered a quick palm strike to his face (which the Sailor managed to mostly dodge) and turned to flee. However, the Scarlet Sailor seized his coat tails (this seemed to be happening to him rather often lately---perhaps it was worth investing in a short coat?), and soon the two men were wrestling on the deck.

Aiba quickly realized that although the Scarlet Sailor was also unarmed, he could not best him with strength in spite of his bigger size. Soon, the Sailor had Aiba’s back against the rails, his forearm pressed across Aiba’s throat. Aiba continued to struggle even as the Sailor twisted his arm behind his back. Aiba hadn’t experienced a fight like this since his school days. 

“Why do you continue to struggle?” the Sailor panted, frustration visible in his beautiful brown eyes (was it wrong that Aiba was rather enjoying having his face only inches away from the pirate’s enticingly soft-looking pink lips? Even his breath was surprisingly sweet for a pirate). “Can you not see that your companions have surrendered?” he growled.

Aiba’s eyes swept the deck. The pirate was right; most of the crew had fallen, and Shun and Toma were bound. He refocused on the impatient features of the Scarlet Sailor, who was biting his lower lip somewhat adorably. 

“Why…do you…wear…a coat on…a coat?” Aiba managed to choke out. The Sailor’s hold slackened slightly in surprise. Catching his breath, Aiba managed, “Is it because you wish to conceal your sloping shoulders?”

The Sailor’s slack-jawed expression told Aiba that he’d hit the mark. He took the opportunity to knee the man in the groin (surely one didn’t have to strictly adhere to the code of honorable masculine engagement during hand-to-hand combat with a pirate?). The Sailor’s grip loosened further, but just as Aiba moved to escape, the pirate moaned, “Satoshi!” Aiba was dazed by a blow to the head delivered by the man with the eye patch, who had appeared instantly at the Scarlet Sailor’s side as though summoned by magic.

Soon enough, Aiba found himself in the humiliating position of lying bound on the deck, gunpowder covering his face and getting into his nose. He might have been more alarmed by his situation if only his head wasn’t throbbing so badly, and if it wasn’t becoming so difficult to breathe. He dimly understood that the Scarlet Sailor was seeking a doctor, and he felt a small, warm glow of triumph in his chest---a temporary relief from the unbearable pressure there---at the thought that Nino was still in their cabin and had a fighting chance of escaping the pirate’s clutches.

But that glow was quickly extinguished when Nino stepped out into the sunlight, unarmed, his slight figure radiating contempt from the soles of his feet to the ends of his black hair in a way that only Nino could.

“…a beautiful friendship.” Aiba heard the smug satisfaction in the Scarlet Sailor’s voice. By now his vision had taken on an interestingly-smeared quality---rather like one of his attempts at watercolor painting, he thought---and he hoped that he would pass out soon so that he wouldn’t have to listen to another of the Scarlet Sailor’s infernal speeches.

But before the Scarlet Sailor could deliver another elegant monologue, he was cut off by the (to Aiba) welcome tones of Nino’s scratchy, high-pitched voice. “I understand that you have a speech prepared, but I would like to resolve this quickly. I agree to join your crew as ship surgeon, and I will leave this ship peaceably, but on one condition---that you release the man at your feet and allow me to attend to him instantly.”

The Scarlet Sailor raised an eyebrow at the small figure before him, who was dressed in a simple white shirt (rather too large for him) and black breeches. “And why should I agree to your condition? Your companion here has already given me a deal of trouble today.”

Nino exploded, “Because he can’t breathe, you filthy cur! Are you truly as stupid as you appear? He can’t fight when on the verge of suffocation!”

The deck became even stiller (if that was possible) after Nino’s outburst. Noises of stifled laughter came from the direction of the Fisher King, and the Scarlet Sailor glared daggers at the blue pirate before returning his gaze to Nino. The pirate’s hand hovered over his sword, but then his eyes flicked to the hyperventilating figure at his feet. Nino saw something waver and slip away in his dark eyes. But then Nino thought that he must have imagined it, because in the next instant the pirate’s eyes were cold and his brilliant smile firmly in place. He conceded pleasantly, “Agreed.”

Nino rushed to unbind his friend as the Scarlet Sailor turned away, snapping his fingers and ordering his minions to locate the ship’s log. The other pirate’s began stripping the crew of their valuables; one party departed to search the cabins and hold for goods while the rest remained to guard the crew of the Maine. The King remained on deck to guard Shun and Toma, though he seemed more interested in following the flight of an albatross in the sky above them.

Aiba found himself seated on a coil of rope, his head pushed between his knees and Nino’s small, meaty hands---which were surprisingly agile with a scalpel---cupped over his mouth and nose to form a shallow space for him to breathe in. His vision started to clear as he felt Nino’s gentlest voice at his ear, “Breathe, my dear friend, breathe. Breathe slowly as I do.” He pressed his side against Aiba’s ribs so that Aiba could feel the deep, slow breaths he was drawing. Soon the two men were breathing in unison, and Nino began wiping the powder from Aiba’s hair, face, and clothing, encouraging him to cough into his hands. Nino was relieved to find that Aiba was not suffering from an asthma attack, as he had feared; rather, he seemed to have been in a state of shock and panic, and choked by the powder that had covered him.

When Aiba had recovered enough, he clutched at his friend’s arm and began, “Nino, I’ll join you aboard the pirate ship…”

“No,” Nino responded instantly. “I just performed what may the noblest gesture of my life---no, I can declare it even now with perfect confidence---it certainly is the most noble gesture that I will ever perform---and for you to join me would render my sacrifice ridiculous.”

“Do you think I can bear to see my brother-in-arms in peril anymore than you can?” Aiba demanded, his eyes filling with tears as he forced the words from his dry throat.

Nino groaned and closed his eyes. “Deuce take all brothers-in-arms,” he whispered quietly, as if to himself. He opened his eyes and responded seriously, “I will not be in peril. No man on a ship is more valuable than the physician. Besides,” he offered Aiba a small smile, “no man can best me at cards. I’ll have won the ship’s treasure and the Scarlet Sailor’s two coats before the month is out.”

Aiba stared at him in disbelief. “I do not mean to offend you, but you are the worst card player I have ever encountered.”

Nino rolled his eyes. “No, Aiba. I act as thought I am the worst card player you have ever encountered, and then I win.” He looked down at his feet. “I just never win with you,” he muttered. Aiba felt something suspiciously like a sob threaten to escape him.

Nino looked away. “I had more than one reason for leaving England, and I am better suited for a pirate’s life than you can imagine.”

Aiba whispered the next words with an expression of horror. “You were a cardsharp?”

Nino flushed at his tone. “Don’t give me that priggish nonsense about honor. You upper-class rogues think that the worst crime a man can commit is to take your money at cards, but you’d happily shoot a dozen men at dawn for some imagined sleight,” he finished angrily.

Before Aiba could respond, Nino stood before him, his eyes pleading in spite of his scowl. “If you are truly a man of honor, as you say, then abide by the wish of your preserver, and pledge to me that you will not join me on the SS Storm.” Nino extended his hand.

Aiba opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted by another proclamation from the Scarlet Sailor. “Ikuta Toma, first mate and navigator,” he pronounced slowly as he examined the pages of the ship’s log. He turned and approached Toma with a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I know you for a reliable seaman.”

Toma tried to rise but was pushed down by the Fisher King, the sword’s pressure on his throat increasing almost imperceptibly.

“Like you, my reputation precedes me,” he spat.

The Scarlet Sailor’s smile only grew wider. “My ship’s own navigator recently lost his head in Madeira. Please allow me to extend an invitation to you to join our crew as chief navigator. I can assure you that the remuneration is generous.”

This time Toma really did spit on his polished boots. “Forgive me for declining your generous offer, but I’m not in the habit of taking orders from schoolboys masquerading as the Scarlet Pimpernel or whatever dandy you’ve modeled yourself after.”

The smile disappeared from the Sailor’s face for a moment before he recomposed his features into his usual terrifyingly-pleasant expression. “Seize him and carry him on board,” he ordered. Two roughs approached Toma and wrenched him into a standing position.

At that moment, a black vision appeared in the sky; Jun, who’d spent the last half hour in the ship’s crow’s nest, waiting for an opportune moment, saw red when Toma grimaced in pain as his shoulders were seized roughly. Jun impetuously grabbed a rope and swung out of the nest in an attempt to topple the Scarlet Sailor.

The Scarlet Sailor let out a rather undignified squeak at the apparition, and Aiba couldn’t repress a cheer. Jun flew through the sky as easily as if he had wings, black hair flowing and bare chest glistening as he held the jeweled dagger between his teeth. Jun growled as he landed atop the Scarlet Sailor and pinned him to the deck, the glittering dagger pressed to his throat and the Sailor’s own sword knocked easily from his hand. “Tell your dogs to take their dirty paws off of him.”

 

*

 

Sakurai Sho couldn’t help but sigh inwardly at this latest development. He truly appreciated the remarkable fraternal love so many of the men on board this ship seemed to possess for one another, he did. And of course one couldn’t help but be impressed by their predilection for dramatic self-sacrifice. 

But still, there were limits, and Sho felt that he had endured enough watery gazes and verbal abuse for one day. Damnation, was this ship crewed by his own personal demons? How had that first mate known that he admired the Scarlet Pimpernel (he kept the novel on his bedside table), and did his coats truly no longer conceal his ever-so-slightly-sloping shoulders? He’d have to check the looking-glass when they returned to the Storm. 

Sho had simply become accustomed to the men he captured being rather more frightened of him. Although these passengers were clearly valuable, this was their most difficult capture in months, and Satoshi (as usual) was being very little help with the “negotiations,” as Sho thought of the part of the capture that came after the swashbuckling. Right now, Satoshi seemed to be doing little more than mooning at the sharp-tongue doctor that he had found so amusing. Sho forced himself to concentrate on the situation at hand.

“Jun!” Toma cried desperately.

“Gag him,” Sho ordered quickly, feeling the dagger almost choking him.

“Tell your crew to depart, or I’ll cut your throat.”

“You’d be dead before you made the first cut.”

Jun’s eyes widened in horror as he felt the sword at his throat. How had the Fisher King approached him so silently, even in all his heavy gear and weaponry? Jun hadn’t heard a single plank creak. He pressed his blade lightly against the Scarlet Sailor’s throat, and he felt a corresponding pressure at his own throat. Jun had tangled with the Fisher King earlier in the fighting, watching in amazement as the pirate cut down men before they had even registered his appearance, his sword traveling in impossible arcs and circles through the air. Jun had no doubt that the King would kill him quickly, but he briefly considered chancing it for the satisfaction of defeating the Scarlet Sailor. But in the case of his death, he realized, he wouldn’t be able to do what he must for Toma.

“Jun,” Shun’s deep voice startled him from his musings. “As your captain, I order you to surrender immediately.”

Jun ignored him. “Take me instead,” he whispered hoarsely. Behind him, Toma began struggling frantically. Four men were needed to restrain him. Sho gazed back at Jun skeptically. “I’m a far better navigator. In fact, I’m the best,” Jun continued. “And Toma would never submit to capture. I would.”

Sho decided not to point out that Jun’s current behavior hardly suggested a submissive temperament. Then comprehension dawned. “Are you Toma’s gypsy boy?”

“Yes,” he whispered. Jun tried to block out the sound of Toma shouting through the gag.

“And if you betray me?”

“Then kill me.” Jun was no longer even looking at Sho.

“Agreed.” Sho reached up and snatched the dagger from Jun’s slackened grip. Jun moved to retrieve it but met Ohno’s steel.

“Return that,” he commanded, his voice frightening in its absolute calmness.

“I swear that it will be returned to you.”

Jun’s expression made it clear what he thought of a pirate’s oath. “And may I ask when?”

Sho surveyed the fierce young man. “When I trust you.” He turned and ordered the crew to prepare to board the Storm. Not a moment too soon, he reflected, raising a hand to massage his exceedingly sore neck.

Aiba was restrained and Nino escorted to his room to collect his medical instruments. Jun was bound and refused to meet Toma’s eyes as he was led to the Storm. “Goodbye, sir,” he murmured as he passed him. Toma continued to struggle in his bindings. Nino similarly ignored Aiba’s cries as he moved towards the pirate ship. The Fisher King trailed behind Nino, looking strangely dazed. Ohno Satoshi thought that he had never observed such a lonely set of shoulders in his entire life.

Sho was stepping to cross the board to the Storm when the fluttering white pages of an open journal near the rail caught his eye. His eye was arrested by a Latin phrase. Homo homini lupus. He leaned down and took up the book to examine it, his expression growing visibly, almost manically excited as he flipped through its pages.

Greek. Latin. French. German. Extracts from works of philosophy and works of science. Experimental results. Tables of data.

“This is the work of an educated man,” he breathed, almost unable to speak for giddiness. A happiness he hadn’t felt in years was ballooning inside his chest.

Nino and Aiba stood near, amazed at the sudden change in the Sailor. His eyes gleamed not with confidence but almost with desperation, and his cultured voice grew rough. “Satoshi,” Sho seized his arm, thrusting the book towards him. Ohno observed the change in Sho, nonplussed.

“This man, we must find the owner of this journal.” Sho flipped to the opening pages. “Aiba Masaki,” he read.

“Is it so important?” the Fisher King questioned him quietly, nodding his head meaningfully toward their captives. Even the oblivious Ohno realized that they might be pushing their luck too far today.

Sho flushed. “I would tear the ship apart to find this man.” He turned from Ohno. “Aiba Masaki,” he cried, unable to conceal the passionate appeal in his voice. “Show yourself!”

Ignoring Nino’s I-will-feed-you-to-a-shark glare, Aiba stepped forward. “I am Aiba Masaki, and that is my journal,” he managed in a slightly shaking voice, quelled in spite of himself by Nino’s palpable rage.

Now it was Sho’s turn to be surprised. He cast a doubtful eye on Aiba’s rough costume and dishelved appearance. “You are a gentleman?”

“Yes.”

“You attended university?”

Aiba stiffened at the implicit disbelief in the Scarlet Sailor’s voice. “Yes. Oxford,” he answered coldly. No need to reveal that he had failed his exams and been expelled after his first year.

Sho continued to appraise him skeptically. He spoke well (and was undoubtedly very handsome, it was easy to imagine him in formal dress), but a scholar? Sho glanced at the page before him. “Translate. Damnat quod non intellegunt.”

Aiba swallowed. He’d never seen so much hunger in one man’s eyes. “They condemn what they do not understand.”

The Scarlet Sailor’s expression relaxed into one of genuine delight. Aiba’s breath caught at the sight of his gentle smile. Sho reflected that, in spite of initial appearances, luck was indeed with him today. “Welcome aboard the Storm.”

 

*

 

Jun rested his back against the rail of the Storm. Upon boarding, Nino had been sent to the sickroom and Aiba to the Scarlet Sailor’s private quarters. Jun had been left to do as he would while they prepared his cabin.

“Jun!” 

He flinched but didn’t turn at Toma’s call. He imagined Toma’s face, perhaps tear-stained (like his own), as he flung himself against the rails of the Maine, finally free of his bonds and crying out towards the retreating Storm.

Jun could just make out Toma’s distant cry. “I found you when there was no tie on this earth that held us together! I can find you again!”

Jun bit his hand to still his trembling. If he didn’t turn around, then the Maine would never disappear from his sight.


	3. Chapter 3

Sho allowed Nino not a moment’s rest; as soon as the Storm began its quick retreat from the Maine, Sho immediately led Nino below deck to the ship’s infirmary.

“Forgive me,” Sho spoke quickly as he strode ahead of Nino, “but I almost fear to let one of my men continue another moment without medical attendance.”

Nino entered the sickroom and was greeted by the sight of four men in various states of distress lying on bedrolls laid out across the floor. All turned curious glances on Nino. The sickroom was exceedingly close and hot but also remarkably clean and tidy, and each man had a basin of fresh water, a glass, and several clean cloths beside them. In fact, Nino had already been startled by the remarkably well-ordered condition of the Storm---it hardly fit his image of a pirate ship as a seaborne den of thieves and murderers.

Nino was further nonplussed by Sho’s rapid change of attitude and appearance; upon boarding the Storm, he’d impatiently shrugged off his coats and passed them to a crew member, and now he stood before Nino in a simple shirt and breeches, his face serious and strangely mild---hardly a spark of the Scarlet Sailor remained in his countenance.

Sho guided Nino to his first patient. Nino noticed that the man’s right hand and left shoulder were well-wrapped in linen. “These wounds have been dressed skillfully,” he observed as he bent to examine the patient, who appeared feverish and stared back at him with wide eyes.

Sho nodded, “Satoshi.” Nino gave him a look of incomprehension. “Pardon me,” Sho amended, “ I refer to the Captain of the Storm, our Fisher King.” Sho’s lips quirked, “He is excellent with a roll of linen.”

Again, Nino could not conceal his surprise at learning that the pirate king attended so closely upon his crew, but he passed over the information and instead inquired, “What has happened to this man?” Nino began checking his temperature and measuring his pulse.

“An accident the day before yesterday. We boarded a ship, and he was shot badly by a musket at close-range. When he tried to return fire, the pistol malfunctioned and caught on fire, burning his hand. I do not know whether it is still possible to remove the musket shot. Usually the captain would remove the bullets, but he refused to allow Satoshi to treat him.” Sho favored the pained sailor with a mild glare. The sailor had the grace to avert his eyes and look somewhat uncomfortable.

“Why?” Nino demanded, looking at the sailor skeptically. He could hardly perform the operation against his patient’s will.

Sho’s voice sank lower. “The last man Satoshi removed a bullet from died. It was not the captain’s fault,” Sho raised his voice and looked meaningfully at the sailor, “the boy had internal injuries that could not be treated. But this man insisted on a professional physician. The boy, Chinen, was very young and loved Satoshi quite fervently. I hardly think Satoshi could perform an extraction again so soon,” Sho spoke the last sentences quietly, as if to himself, his eyes downcast.

Nino felt his mouth drop open. “You attacked the Maine merely to accommodate the request of a crew member?”

Sho shrugged. “The man used to be a good shot, and he is still a good cook,” he answered shortly. “Can you treat him?”

“I will try. But I demand that you allow me perfect freedom in treatment---as a surgeon, I take orders only from those more skilled in medicine than myself. 

Sho nodded, “Of course.”

Nino first unwrapped the sailor’s right hand. It was evident why the man appeared feverish---the pain must be incredible. His hand was badly lacerated and even his forearm was covered in angry red burns. Nino removed a jar of salve from his case and spoke to the sailor as he applied it. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Ninomiya Kazunari, a surgeon, most recently of the Strand, London. I would prefer to be addressed as ‘sir’ or ‘your grace,’ but you may also call me Nino. What is your name, my unlucky fellow?”

“Hiroki,” the sailor managed after licking his dry lips. “Narimiya Hiroki.”

Nino continued chatting as he uncovered his left shoulder, which was peppered with shot. He tsked, “Hiroki, you are one of the unluckiest sailors in battle I have ever encountered. Meaning that you must be exceedingly lucky at cards. We will have a hand tomorrow. Scalpel,” Nino ordered Sho casually. Sho withdrew the correct instrument from Nino’s case. Nino observed that linen and a bowl were at the ready. “Alcohol,” he demanded. Sho passed him the bottle. “Do you have anything for the pain?”

“Hardly. We have not been able to procure medical supplies in months.”

“You will find a bottle labeled laudanum in my case. Carefully soak a handkerchief with the substance. Hiroki, you are strong and I cannot hold you down---would you like to be strapped down, or can you control yourself?”

“Without the straps,” the sailor insisted, his eyes flashing.

Nino nodded. “Proud and stupid,” he confirmed. “Raise the handkerchief to your nose and inhale deeply several times.” Nino waited until his patient seemed to be in an opium-induced daze before ordering Sho to hold down his shoulders and beginning the extraction. Nino continued to chat in low, soothing tones throughout the operation, even as the man flinched in Sho’s grip and groaned in pain as Nino dug out the small round pellets. When each had been removed, Nino poured alcohol over the shoulder to disinfect the wounds. Hiroki bit down on a cloth to muffle his scream at the sensation.

“At least you are a capable assistant,” Nino observed to Sho casually as he redressed the wound. Sho did not respond, and Nino glanced up to find a trembling Scarlet Sailor, his face drained of color, looking as if were about to lose his dinner.

“You seem a capable doctor,” Sho managed in a shaking voice. 

Nino couldn’t suppress a grin at Sho's almost-accusatory tone. “Well enough for a surgeon. I cannot promise much with other ailments.”

Sho remained in the room while Nino tended to the other patients. Nino supposed that Sho was evaluating the ship’s recent acquisition and ignored his presence as he treated a man with a simple cold, another with a leg wound that had become infected, and finally a man suffering from a painful flare-up of syphilis. Nino shook his head at this last patient. “I think I can do little for him. I will give him mercury, but I’ve known this poison to kill as often as it cures.” Nino turned back to Sho. “And now I must insist that these men be moved to a cabin on deck with an opening for air to circulate. In any case, they will be more comfortable with fresher air.”

Sho agreed immediately. “Thank you. You are a skilled physician, a rare find in this part of the Atlantic. I will give the orders immediately and call a man to show you to your cabin.”

Sho turned to leave, but his talk of a “rare find” recalled to Nino’s mind the pirate’s excitement over Aiba’s journal. “Wait! I must ask you---why were you so eager to meet the owner of that journal?” Nino nodded at the leather satchel Sho wore containing Aiba’s journal. Sho seemed to loathe parting with it even for a moment.

Sho blinked in surprise at the aggression in Nino’s tone, but something about the man’s careless air of command consistently rattled Sho, and he found himself responding to the surgeon’s demands with thoughtless obedience. “The journal is the work of a university-educated gentleman and naturalist. I can see that he is aware of the latest scientific developments and that he is engaged in a project of rigorous research. It is exceedingly rare…” Sho’s voice caught a little, “….it has been years since I spoke to a cultivated gentleman with whom I could converse on terms of equality.

An enigmatic smile appeared on Nino’s face as he began packing up his equipment and took a last look at his patients. “I know little of these matters,” he spoke with a strange glee. “I can assure you that Aiba Masaki is a rare find indeed. Whether or not he is a cultivated gentleman, you of course would be a better judge of than myself.” Nino finished with a cheerful grin that was both very charming and---Sho thought---very worrying.

 

*

 

Disquieted by the undercurrent of mockery in Nino’s remarks, Sho took a moment to further investigate Aiba’s journal before entering his quarters. At first, it was much as he remembered it: notes on treatises by French scientists, extracts from Linnaeus and passages from the classics (Sho recognized Aristotle) and other ancient philosophers. 

However, as Sho came to take a closer look at a few of the notebook’s many experimental tables and reports, he found himself thoroughly disconcerted by what he discovered: an experiment to determine whether one could jump farther if you attached a heavy rock to oneself and threw it through the air to increase momentum (apparently the distance could be increased, but only if a strong man ran beside you and threw the rock for you), a chart of how effect various cylinders (including a recorder) were at transferring water from a glass to one’s mouth, a study to determine if one could remain under water longer by sucking the air from a green pepper (the results had been inconclusive, and Aiba had made a note beside the data, “Merits further study”), an experiment to attract lighting by flying a kite during a thunderstorm (what the experimenter intended to do with the lighting once he attracted it was not clear), and many more.

Sho began to fear that he had invited a madman onto his ship. With a sickening sense of disappointment, he opened the door to his cabin.

 

*

 

Aiba had been led to the Scarlet Sailor’s cabin by a crew member and left with assurances that the first mate would return after aiding Nino with the ship’s sick. Aiba stood in the midst of the rooms feeling thoroughly baffled. Aiba could not account for the pirate’s evident interest in his journal. While Aiba was relieved to have an excuse to join Nino on board the Storm (in spite of Nino’s assertions, Aiba was sure that his friend would require his protection at some point---indeed, even if it was only that the ship ran into violent weather, who else could care so well for Nino?), but it was troubling to be ignorant of the reasons for his capture.

Perhaps the Scarlet Sailor had mistook his journal for a work in code, or a treasure map? Aiba was indeed a master of several codes, he reflected proudly, and he had invented a superior type of invisible ink, as well as a secret method of relaying messages using only toast and lemon juice (his paper on the subject had been rejected by the Royal Society).

Deciding that his musings on the Sailor’s motives were unprofitable, Aiba pushed his worries aside and soon became absorbed in contemplation of the pirate’s chambers. His quarters were certainly larger than the typical cabin but still relatively modest, consisting of an office, a bedroom behind it, and a closet to the side. While the office was enclosed, the bedroom possessed a window that allowed a breeze to circulate through the rooms. The furniture in the bedroom looked common enough, but Aiba found the office truly intriguing. It contained a beautiful mahogany table and desk, with chairs upholstered in red velvet. The desk (surprisingly messy) was piled high with papers, maps, and writing instruments, as well as the tools necessary for cartography. The desk possessed several locked drawers (as Aiba discovered when he attempted to open them---not to look inside, of course, just to test their security). 

Aiba was drawn first to the large, clearly valuable globe near the desk, and then to the curious assortment of objects on the wooden mantle installed on the wall behind the desk. Aiba discovered an old sword with a beautifully-engraved handle, several well-worn books, a carefully-preserved stack of London newspapers dated a year back, a large collection of incense sticks and holders, what appeared to be a set of four teeth preserved in a small jar, and what looked like a lady’s pencil drawing of a grand country estate. Aiba had finished sniffing the various sticks of incense and was moving to examine the books when he was startled by the Scarlet Sailor’s sudden entrance. Aiba turned with a jump and sneezed in surprise (perhaps he’d inhaled too deeply of the incense collection).

Strangely enough, Aiba had begun to entertain hopes of a rather pleasant conversation. Yes, this man had threatened to burn him alive only a few hours ago, but Aiba didn’t believe in holding grudges. He’d much rather inquire where on the globe the pirate had traveled, where he’d purchased his incense, and whose teeth were in that jar? Aiba had found the collection strangely comforting---it reminded him of the odd assortment of objects in his room at home, and the drawing was the kind of thing he was used to seeing in the parlors of his female acquaintances.

However, all possibilities for an evening of satisfying intercourse seemed to dry up once Aiba was confronted with the pirate’s barely-concealed irritation. Once again, the Scarlet Sailor’s eyes swept over his appearance, seemingly displeased with what he discovered.

“You must forgive me. I ought to have allowed you to change before our meeting. I’m afraid I was too eager to begin our  
acquaintance. Allow me to introduce myself,” he made a slight bow. “I am Sakurai Sho. Please call me Sho.”

“Aiba Masaki,” Aiba replied with a slight bow of his own. “I’m afraid that only my mother calls me Masaki.”

“Aiba, then,” Sho replied with a slight smile. Aiba thought this an opportune moment to pose his most pressing question.

“Sho, I must confess that I am puzzled by your strong desire to meet me, and I also cannot imagine what you have found of such interest in my journal.”

Sho approached the table and invited Aiba to sit. “This may be hard to believe,” he began, “but I am myself an Oxford graduate and doctor of philosophy. As you can imagine, it is difficult to meet with intelligent conversation on the high seas, and I was ecstatic to discover a fellow graduate and man of my own class.”

Aiba flushed. While he knew it might be more prudent to keep silent, he felt more and more uncomfortable with his indirect lie. “I should tell you that I am not a university graduate.”

Sho’s jaw tightened. “But you attended Oxford?”

“For one year. Then I left.”

“You failed?” he asked, with a most unpleasant note of contempt creeping into his voice.

Aiba rarely became angry. He found it to be an extraordinarily uncomfortable feeling; it pained his chest nearly as much as the gunpowder had earlier that day. But he could not stop himself from shaking and beginning to sweat at the pirate’s audacity (while Nino generally turned cold when angry, Aiba turned hot): what right had he---a pirate, thief, murderer---to sit so coolly and pass judgment on Aiba’s life?

“I’m afraid I found their courses useless in my work. Their exams test how well you have memorized books that are already out of date, not whether you are capable of innovative thought.”

Sho raised an (incredibly infuriating) eyebrow. “And you consider whether green peppers allow you to breathe underwater to be an example of innovative thought?”

Aiba felt as though he had been slapped; he could not bear to have the words of his own journal repeated back to him with such disdain. Unconsciously, he stood up. “What is science if not an attempt to explore the world around us? I would not scoff at any method of expanding our knowledge of the universe’s properties.”

Sho ignored Aiba’s speech and continued to speak in a tone of exasperation, “Then at least you may tell me the news from England? What party currently controls parliament? What are the current political and commercial affairs? Do you have a newspaper in your possession, no matter how old?” 

Sho’s voice had changed to a slightly wistful tone with the last question, and Aiba couldn’t help but feel deflated as he answered, “No, I do not have a paper with me. And I have lived a very retired life on my family estate. I am not in the habit of following national affairs.” Aiba used the newspaper to stuff his boots, to light his fire, and to carry insects that had wondered inside back to the garden, but he rarely (well, never) read it. “You would do well to ask Nino those questions,” he offered.

“And why are you heading to Brazil?”

“I plan to explore the wildlife of the Amazon. Why study theories when there is still so much in this world that remains unknown to us in England?” Aiba demanded, unable to stop himself from trying to justify his venture, though he could not have said why he felt the need to offer the Scarlet Sailor an explanation for his choice. 

Sho looked dubious. “You plan to explore the Amazon while you suffer from asthma?”

Aiba was shouting before he knew it. “I do not suffer from asthma! It is not every day that I am covered in gunpowder and threatened with immolation!” (Aiba couldn’t repress a feeling of triumph at his ability to recall the world “immolation”). “And if you continue this interrogation, I will consider it a deliberate insult,” he concluded hotly.

Sho stood up and walked to his mantle, leaning his arm against it and looking at the floor, trying to master himself. He realized that he had been unspeakably rude to Aiba during this interview, and this knowledge of his uncouthness only increased his irritation. He saw now that he had been too eager for…what? To return even for a moment to the time when he was an idealistic young scholar with all his life before him? To speak with someone without having to preserve his authority? To talk freely of what interested him without being met with a look of incomprehension? Sho decided that, in his eagerness, he had allowed himself to imagine that he had met the companion he so desired. And now he had exposed himself before this man, in all his sourness and disappointment. Sho preferred to present himself before others as a supremely-controlled man, but he knew his nature to be volatile. And Aiba (like Nino) threw him off his guard.

“Forgive me. I see that I have been laboring under a misapprehension. I promise to free you from captivity at the next major port we arrive at, and then you may continue your journey from there.”

Aiba stepped toward Sho hastily, almost knocking over a chair in the process. “I will not leave Nino.”

“You are of no use to me.”

“I will be of use,” he countered, eyes blazing.

Sho suddenly felt very tired. “We will discuss this later. You may leave. Choose whichever cabin you like.” Sho turned to face the mantle, expecting to hear Aiba’s retreating footsteps. But Aiba remained in the room. Did no one from that cursed ship respect his authority?

“Why did you choose me?”

Sho turned in exasperation. “I told you that I was interested by your journal.”

“No, before that.” Aiba was looking at him with genuine curiosity. “Why was I the sacrificial victim? Did you think me weak?”

Startled, Sho looked into Aiba’s deep brown eyes and considered whether to tell him the truth. “Well…you fell at my feet. And in any case, I generally choose the most attractive man on board to act as victim. The prettier and more lady-like his features, the more likely that half a dozen men on board are desperately in love with him and ready to give up all in their possession for his safety.”

Now Aiba’s eyes were sparking with indignation. “You. Are far prettier. and more lady-like. than I am,” he ground out.

Sho had no idea how the conversation had taken such a turn (or why he had confessed his true reasons to Aiba), but he now felt a childish desire to annoy Aiba further. “But I am stronger,” he replied quickly.

“No. I was surprised when we fought earlier.”

“Then best me now,” Sho smirked, confidently withdrawing his sword from its sheath at his side and tossing Aiba the sword from his mantle.

Aiba caught the sword easily, and within two moves he had Sho disarmed and pinned against the wall.

“Ha, ha” Sho managed weakly. “Yes…I suppose you are…rather better…with a sword…than me” he trailed off lamely, aware that Aiba might easily kill him and in fact had every reason to do so. Their breaths mingled for a few moments (Sho wondered if he was going cross-eyed from staring into the sparkling depths of Aiba’s eyes), and then suddenly Aiba turned with a grin and replaced the sword on the mantel.

“I do this so that you will not underestimate me, and so that you will know that I may be of use aboard a pirate ship.” Aiba flashed Sho a triumphant smile. Sho felt weak-kneed and dizzy from trying to follow Aiba’s logic.

“My journal,” Aiba requested quietly.

“May I keep it for one night?” Sho asked, still slightly breathless. “There were some quotations in it that I would like to review.” Sho knew how unbearable his request must seem after their disastrous encounter, but he could not resist the temptation.

Aiba surveyed Sho’s rather pathetic expression (the Scarlet Sailor was actually biting his lower lip in nervousness) and found that he did not have the heart to refuse him, in spite of his intolerable arrogance. “You may,” he replied. Then, without waiting for Sho to dismiss him, he turned and left the room.

 

*

 

Nino was heading to his cabin when a lackey arrived to inform him that the captain had requested that Nino consult with him about the injury to his eye. Nino followed the messenger willingly, curious about the silent pirate who hardly seemed to rule his own ship yet acted as an amateur physician to his crew.

After knocking and hearing a soft “enter,” Nino entered the captain’s quarters to find an even smaller man than he remembered---without the enormous hat and jacket, he seemed almost slighter than Nino. Yet he radiated an aura of quiet strength, even more so now that he was dressed in simple dark blue pantaloons and a white nightshirt. Nino envied the man’s forceful presence.

Though to Nino’s amazement, the captain was sitting cross-legged on his bed, and he appeared to be working on an elaborate piece of embroidery, holding the cloth up close to his uncovered eye in order to examine a stitch. He set aside his sewing after Nino walked in.

“You wished me to examine your eye?” Nino inquired, his voice slipping a few notches higher; he felt strangely nervous in the captain’s presence. The captain nodded. Nino waited for him to offer more details.

But none were forthcoming, so he continued the conversation (if it could be called that) on his own. “I must warn you that I am a practical surgeon, with little specialized knowledge. And eye ailments are among the most difficult to diagnose and treat. But if you will come into the light, I will examine it and at least attempt a professional opinion.” 

The two men stood in the ray of late evening light streaming in through the cabin’s window, and Nino gently steadied the pirate’s chin with his hand. Feeling oddly self-conscious (could that sound really be the rapid thrumming of his heart?), Nino swallowed and commanded himself not to react, no matter what horrors he might find beneath the patch. Preparing himself for a milky, unfocused globe or a mass of scar tissue, Nino avoided the intent gaze of the captain’s good eye and flipped up the patch.

“…you are aware that this is a stye?” The pirate nodded.

“And how long have you had it?”

“Since yesterday.”

Nino groaned and rolled his eyes in annoyance. “And you wear a patch because…?”

“Sho thought that the stye looked grotesque. Then he decided that the patch gave me a menacing air and suggested that I wear it during our next venture. And my name is Ohno Satoshi. You may call me Satoshi.”

Nino broke into genuine laughter at the first complete speech he’d heard from the Fisher King. Flipping the patch back down, he chuckled, “I’m sorry to disappoint you, captain, but you will simply have to wait for it to disappear. As if anything could give you a menacing air,” he grinned.

Ohno nodded, “I know that it will disappear.”

“Then may I ask why you wished to waste my time and delay my rest by consulting me?”

“I could not wait to meet you,” Ohno replied simply, his light eyes looking directly into Nino’s.

Nino averted his eyes, “Why?”

“I find you intriguing,” he replied with a smile.

Nino almost choked on air. “What?” he sputtered.

“I have noticed that you are not afraid of either Sho or myself.”

“How could anyone be afraid of a mute with a stye,” Nino blushed, unsure whether to be annoyed or flattered by the captain's gaze.  
“Most people are even more afraid of my silence than my sword,” Ohno mused, looking out the cabin window.

Nino turned away and snorted. “Well, in my experience, most people are fools. To be afraid of a prig in two coats and a…a…village simpleton” he finished, but the last words came out weaker than he had intended.

Once again, Ohno fixed his gaze wonderingly on Nino’s face. “And have you never considered that, rather than all other men being exceptionally stupid, it is only that you are exceptionally brave?”

Heart pounding, Nino (most un-bravely) fled the room.

 

*

 

Seated in his office, Sho turned the leaves of Aiba’s journal. He’d intended to reread Aiba’s notes from Aristotle but had soon found himself entranced by the details of Aiba’s mad experiments. Did a light mesh pattern really appear if one was hit in the face with a pie while wearing a fencing mask? Could snakes truly not move forward when placed on a slick surface? By turns amusing and oddly-informative, Sho was beginning to find Aiba’s entries compulsively readable.

As he examined the pages, it suddenly struck Sho with renewed force that, although Aiba had failed his university exams, he possessed a working knowledge of at least five languages---he seemed to have picked up whatever he needed in order to read the scientific tracts that interested him.

Carefully rereading the pages he had passed over before, Sho discovered fascinating and strangely-moving descriptions of animal sightings and behavior, catalogues of butterflies, careful accounts of the life cycles of everything from beetles to chickens, all written with a palpable enthusiasm and complimented by detailed (if slightly clumsy) illustrations.

On the journal’s last completed page, Sho found a rare personal entry, dated for that very day:

_I believe that the dolphins today must be a good omen for my venture---I should remain steadfast in my purpose. Though I must admit that I dread parting with Nino when we reach the Americas. I am glad that my friend has recovered fully and that we are able to enjoy the beauty of the sea and sky together today._

Sho let his forehead hit the desk. “I must be the most intolerable fool in the Western hemisphere,” he muttered.

 

*

 

Nino tossed in his bed. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the clear-eyed gaze of his captain. Scratch that, the ship’s captain. Not his captain. Certainly not. Though he would never have admitted it, he was relieved when Aiba entered the room without knocking.

“I sold my soul to a pirate king and I’m still not allowed to have my own cabin?” he complained comfortably. Aiba moved to lie beside him, but Nino thrust out a leg to stop him. “Wash first,” he ordered. 

Grumbling, Aiba made his way to the washbasin and stripped to his underclothes. “Nino,” Aiba queried as he splashed his face, “how could a weak, petty, priggish, ass become the feared ruler of a pirate ship?”

Nino closed his eyes, exhausted. “I suppose it is no stranger than a mute, needle-working boy becoming its captain.” He turned to look at Aiba as he blew out the candle and settled in bed beside him. “I fear that we are not on a pirate ship but some new form of mental institution.” Aiba gazed at the ceiling, clearly considering Nino’s proposal.

"Aiba?"

“Yes?”

“Would you describe me as a brave man?”

Aiba turned to him with wide, shining eyes that Nino could perceive even in the dark. “Of course. You save lives every day. You saved my life.”

Nino snorted, closing his eyes and flinging an arm across Aiba’s stomach so that he could press himself into Aiba’s side. “That was definitely an act of stupidity.”

Aiba smiled in the dark. “I would not be able to fall asleep without you, either, my brother-in-arms.”


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Aiba and Nino woke early. They shared briefly what knowledge they possessed of the ship’s workings, as well as their somewhat bizarre encounters with the Fisher King and the Scarlet Sailor (both men withheld such irrelevant details as the increase of their heartbeats during said interviews). They resolved to watch for a chance to escape but otherwise to go about their business on ship as naturally as possible so as not to arouse suspicion. Nino was particularly insistent that they conduct themselves _quietly_ , while Aiba demanded Nino’s word that if they left the Storm, it would only be together. 

Nino blinked at Aiba’s request. “Of course. You cannot believe that I would escape myself and leave you on board?”

“I only want us to pledge that we will share the same fate.” Aiba entreated, with such an anxious look and tone that Nino found himself offering his word without further question. Aiba did not tell Nino of Sho’s offer to free Aiba at the next port.

Nino left to check on his patients while Aiba began searching the ship for Jun. Aiba inquired of several sailors which cabin was Jun’s, but all reported that Jun had last been seen wandering the upper deck either late at night or early this morning. Aiba found Jun pacing the deck, looking drawn and pale, his hair wild. Aiba realized that Jun had probably not slept. Feeling a pang of guilt for his own comfortable rest beside Nino, Aiba dragged an unusually compliant Jun to breakfast.

While Aiba devoured his cured meat and biscuits, with generous draughts of the ship’s ale between mouthfuls, Jun stared unseeingly down at the plate Aiba had prepared for him.

“Jun, you should eat. I see that you’ve not slept---you cannot let your strength break down,” Aiba spoke firmly. “Here,” he said, selecting a biscuit and proceeding to stuff it into Jun’s mouth, “Eat.”

Nostrils flaring and thick eyebrows knitting at the indignity, Jun began resisting. But Aiba was just as determined, and when Nino walked in to breakfast, he discovered Aiba and Jun struggling, with three of Aiba’s fingers and a piece of bacon actually inside Jun’s mouth. “Aiba!” Nino reprimanded.

“He would not eat,” Aiba muttered sulkily, withdrawing his fingers. Jun spat the bacon from his mouth.

Nino observed Jun’s miserable countenance and especially his unkempt hair, surely a sign of deep depression in Jun. “You must eat, Jun,” Nino spoke as he procured his own breakfast, not meeting Jun’s eyes.” In an off-hand manner, he suggested, “You certainly will have scurvy if you weaken yourself or become dehydrated.”

After a few moments of what looked to be a painful internal debate, Jun sighed and slowly began to eat and drink.

“Jun,” Aiba began softly after Jun had taken a few bites, his eyes wide with concern, “would you like to share a cabin with myself and Nino? Are none of the other rooms satisfactory?”

Jun grunted as he reached for another biscuit. “I’ll decline. I’ve always hoped for a more glorious end than being smothered to death in my sleep by a gangly idiot.”

Nino laughed, choking on his beer, and Aiba smiled brightly---they were the first words Jun had spoken that morning.

“Fool,” Jun said with a hit to the back of Aiba’s head (which was so light that it was almost a pet). “Don’t smile when someone insults you.” But Jun was smiling too.

 

*

 

Nino had breakfasted quickly and returned to the sickroom; apparently, a sailor had arrived with an excruciating toothache and was begging for Nino’s attendance. Jun wandered off (still seeming rather dazed and unlike his usual strutting self, to Aiba’s chagrin) in the direction of the ship’s navigation room, and Aiba decided to explore the deck, determined to simultaneously avoid the Scarlet Sailor and prove himself useful to the running of a pirate ship.

Once on deck, Aiba encountered a fascinating sight: sailors with smoking buckets of sticky black substance were using long metal trowels to carefully pour the substance between the ship’s wooden floorboards. Feeling his tension rise at the sight of a mysterious substance (and a smoking one at that), Aiba inquired excitedly of the sailor who seemed to be supervising the work, “What do you do here, my dear fellow?”

The sailor took in Aiba's blissful countenance with some surprise. “We are tarring the deck, sir.” At Aiba’s eager look, he continued, “We use this tar to seal the cracks between the planks, making her deck watertight.”

“Ah, I see! A resin-like substance and sealant. Must prevent the boards from swelling and warping as well as leaking. May I join in the work?”

Knowing him to be a gentleman, the sailor cast a skeptical eye over the enthusiastic man. “Well, you are welcome to the work if you can perform it, sir, but I won’t be answerable for a poor job or any burn you may have, if you’ll excuse me saying so, sir.”  
Aiba waved away his concerns. “Do not worry, my good man. I shall be most careful,” he replied confidently.

And Aiba did turn out to be rather excellent at tarring. He worked attentively and eagerly while others grew tired from the heat of the smoking tar and blazing midday sun. With the extra assistance, the men completed their task early, and as they moved to store the tar, Aiba leapt in front of the buckets with a gesture of supplication, “Wait! May I command this tar for a brief series of experiments?”

The sailor’s eyebrows climbed as high up his forehead as they possibly could. “I could not say what you mean by experiments, sir, but if you’d like to use the tar you’ll have to ask permission of our first mate.”

Aiba appeared stumped. Then his face lit up, “What if I had the captain’s leave?”

The sailor appeared a bit stumped in turn. No one on board the Storm asked the captain’s leave for anything---Sakurai decided how supplies were distributed and when and how work was performed. “I suppose that would satisfy…” Aiba was off like a shot, thoroughly in the grip of what Nino referred to as “one of his experimental manias.”

To his surprise, Aiba learned from the sailors he questioned that the captain could be found in the new sickroom, relocated last  
night to a room on the upper deck. Arriving at the infirmary, Aiba discovered Nino crouched beside a man who was groaning in pain while clutching the side of his face. The captain kneeled at Nino’s side, a few inches further back from the patient.

With a quick bow, Aiba spoke from the door, “Captain, may I commandeer a few buckets of tar for a series of most interesting and potentially-profitable experiments?”

“Of course,” Ohno murmured, his eyes never leaving Nino’s face as Nino opened the sailor’s mouth to examine the tooth.

“I see that you are a man of great vision,” as he spoke, Aiba suddenly perceived that the captain no longer wore his patch, and that his exposed eye looked perfectly normal. The realization drew him up short for a moment, but he promptly recovered, “…and possess a mind full of scientific curiosity. A gentleman after my own heart,” he beamed before turning to sprint down the corridor. 

“Big mistake,” Nino muttered as he tapped on the patient’s offending tooth, provoking a fresh howl of agony.

 

*

 

After delivering the day’s orders, Sho had spent most of the morning pacing back and forth in his office, glancing at the journal on his desk while trying to formulate an apology. The Scarlet Sailor offered men casual, insincere, and sarcastic apologies almost every day, but it had been years since Sho had truly felt himself in the wrong and sincerely asked for forgiveness.

Sho muttered under his breath as he paced. “My dear sir, you can imagine my surprise when…factors beyond my control led me to believe…I was quite distracted by your appearance and…no, upon further consideration I have decided…” 

Groaning, Sho halted and took a deep breath, then strode out of his office with resolve. No more quibbling, he told himself sternly.

He must act a gentleman and simply request Aiba’s pardon. Without compromising his authority. Or admitting he was capable of a mistake.

Sho’s manly resolve began to crumble, however, when he discovered a bare-chested and sweating Aiba seated on deck and surrounded by buckets of tar and seawater, stirring their contents with a thick paintbrush he had procured.

“Er, what are you doing?”

Once again, Aiba found himself staring at the black boots of the Scarlet Sailor. He raised his eyes to take in the man’s oddly-flustered expression. He returned his gaze to the tar. “Conducting an experiment,” he replied stiffly. “With the captain’s approval,” he added quickly, glancing back up at Sho’s face.

“Oh,” Sho responded, taken aback.

Aiba returned his attention to the tar while Sho stood uncomfortably above him. “Well, I had hoped,” he fumbled, “that is, it has come my attention that your appearance…no, I mean, certain statements were made, and…” Aiba stared up at him in bewilderment.

Sho closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He bowed, “Please forgive me. I was horribly rude last night. I realize now that you are a most dedicated naturalist, and that my behavior would shame any educated gentleman. I beg your pardon.” Sho straightened and opened his eyes to find that not only Aiba but also every other man on deck had frozen in the midst of their task and was staring at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. Would Aiba humiliate him further before his crew by rejecting his apology?

Aiba managed to close his mouth, then studied Sho’s features seriously, making Sho flush even more deeply under his scrutiny. “I grant you my pardon most happily.” Sho sighed in relief. “On one condition.” Sho felt a nervous tightening in his stomach. A smile spread across Aiba’s face, “That you donate your boots to science.”

“Pardon?”

Aiba began to explain eagerly, gesticulating (rather dangerously) with the brush he held in his hand. “If tar may waterproof a ship’s deck, may it not also waterproof her first mate’s boots?”

“But the mixture would render the boots intolerably stiff and heavy,” Sho countered, drawn in by the question in spite of himself.

“Yes,” Aiba nodded. “So we must create an extremely diluted form of the resin, a light layer that might be applied with a simple brush. Let us attempt a mixture,” he proposed, his eyes kindling. 

Almost before he was aware of it, Sho was seated on the deck, mixing tar and water under Aiba’s direction.

 

*

 

Nino felt as though he had acquired a second shadow. A small, very tan shadow, dressed in flowered pantaloons.

Ohno had joined Nino in the sickroom before breakfast, watching as Nino examined Hiroki’s wounds and replaced his bandages.

“Gahh!” Nino shrieked, almost jumping out of his skin when he turned around to discover the captain leaning against the doorframe.

Ohno nodded in response. “How does he get on?”

“Well,” Nino answered curtly, tidying his bag. He finished and approached Ohno, “I see that you have removed your patch.”

“Yes.”

Nino shuffled uneasily under the captain’s sleepy yet strangely penetrating gaze. “I must breakfast,” he bit out, more harshly than he had intended.

“Will you return to the sickroom after?”

“Most likely,” he mumbled, pushing past the captain and trying to walk down the corridor at a steady pace, embarrassed at the recollection of his undignified flight the night before.

When Nino returned after breakfast, he entered the infirmary cautiously, glancing about for a hidden captain ready to spring out at him from the shadows. With a strange feeling of emptiness (that was definitely not disappointment) at finding only his patients, Nino began to question the man rolling around on the floor with a throbbing toothache. But as he moved to examine the man more closely---the sailor was called Kame---he became aware of a quiet presence kneeling beside him. He started. “Damn it, man! Don’t stick to me like glue!” The captain backed up a few inches.

Nino chuckled quietly at Ohno’s ready acceptance of Aiba’s strange request, but his expression turned serious as Kame let out another howl. Nino sat back on his heels, and he unconsciously began conversing with the man at his side. “The tooth is completely rotten. It must be removed. But I have only seen this performed once---I have never removed a tooth.” He mused, clearly dissatisfied, “What if he were to bleed out, or I injured his jaw?” Nino shook his head. Ohno remained quiet at his side.

“Kame,” he began, “I cannot answer for the consequences if I remove the tooth. I have never performed such an operation.”

“Please,” the sailor begged, grasping onto Nino’s arm tightly with a sweaty hand. “I am at death’s door already,” he panted. “I cannot sleep nor eat for the pain.”

Nino rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed in annoyance. “I understand. But I insist that you are strapped to the bed.”

Nino and Ohno began strapping him down together silently; Ohno was clearly familiar with the belts. Finally, Ohno spoke up, “Would you like me to knock him out?”

“No, I think he would awaken from the pain in any case. Do you have a flask?” Ohno withdrew one from his boot. “Drink this. All of it,” Nino ordered Kame grimly. He removed a set of pliers from his bag and then passed a deal of cotton wool into Ohno’s hands.

Somehow, Nino felt much more at ease around the captain---he could even look directly into his eyes now---when giving him orders. His confident bedside manner overrode the self-consciousness he felt by the side of the Fisher King. “As soon as I remove the tooth,” he commanded firmly, “you must immediately apply the wool and staunch the bleeding. I do not know how much blood there will be. I imagine a great deal,” he suggested dryly. “And this wound will have to be disinfected, so you must pass me the alcohol at my command. Do you understand?” Ohno nodded seriously. Nino felt perfectly confident in the captain’s abilities as a surgeon’s assistant.

Nino climbed atop the sailor (Kame had emptied the flask) and held the man’s mouth open, positioning his pliers. Nino took a deep breath and then growled at the room’s other occupants, “I am not an actor. And this is not a Christmas play.” The men quickly averted their horrified gazes. “Hold his jaw open,” Nino nodded towards Ohno. “On three, my brave man. One, two…”

The sound and sensation were beyond sickening, and there was more blood than Nino could have imagined. But Ohno was there instantly with the cloth, and he rubbed the gaping wound with alcohol while Nino continued to gaze as though struck by lightning at the sight of the tooth between his pliers. Nino tried to block out Kame’s piteous groans as Ohno wiped the sweat from his forehead and stuffed the opening in the sailor’s gums with cotton. Kame seemed to pass out shortly afterwards---most likely delirious from the combination of alcohol, pain, and terror---and Nino tucked the tooth into the man’s pocket before hastily packing up and leaving the room. Of course, Ohno followed him.

“As captain of this ship, do you have nothing better to do with your time?”

“No.”

“Then you might at least try not to be a nuisance in my sickroom.” Nino wanted to bite his tongue out the moment the words left his mouth. He had intended to thank Ohno for his excellent assistance, but he felt irritated and embarrassed by his most unprofessional trembling after the tooth’s removal. He had not acted like such a simpleton since his apprenticeship. But he had also never used pliers to wrench a tooth from a man’s mouth.

But Ohno did not appear hurt by Nino’s sharp words; his calm expression remained intact. Nino had only encountered one other man so capable of ignoring his barbs---Aiba.

“I hope to learn more of medicine by observing you,” Ohno offered simply. “I have acted as a doctor aboard ship, but my last patient died after much suffering.” He avoided Nino’s eyes as he spoke, “Perhaps if I had known more…”

Nino wanted to tell Ohno that it was not his fault---that most of the patients he encountered in his practice were already beyond his aid. Instead, his (idiot) tongue tripped out, “And why should I spend my time training a bloodthirsty pirate in the medicinal arts?”  
Ohno seemed to seriously consider the question. “Then what if I offered you a trade?” he asked, his eyes lighting up with pride at his suggestion (surely Sho would be impressed by such an exercise of negotiation on Ohno’s part).

“A trade?”

“Allow me to assist you, and provide me with some training, and in turn I will train you in sword-fighting."

Nino thought of the satisfaction he’d (briefly) felt while wielding Aiba’s gleaming pistols. “Pistols as well?”

Ohno shrugged. “I have never understood the appeal, but I am an excellent shot,” he answered calmly. “Sword-fighting and shooting.” He nodded his agreement. He looked at Nino with a strange fondness. “We’ll make a pirate of you yet.”

“But you will never be a surgeon,” Nino snapped in return, studiously avoiding Ohno’s adorable smile.

 

*

 

After several hours of work, Aiba and Sho relaxed on deck, gazing in admiration at their pair of admirably-waterproof boots. The two exchanged a look of glee, then blinked, turning away at the same moment. Trying to calm the throbbing in his chest, Aiba directed his eyes anywhere but at Sho. As he surveyed the deck, a thought occurred to him. “Have you no system for collecting fresh rainwater on deck?”

“I have heard of such systems, but I have never met with one,” Sho answered with some surprise. 

“Then let us improvise one directly,” Aiba offered. “Do you have some canvas?” Sho ordered a nearby deckhand to fetch a piece of canvas, and when he returned with it, Aiba suggested coating it in a light waterproofing resin and then stretching it across a wooden frame, creating a wide collecting trough for rainwater. The two men spent another hour fashioning the contraption. Sho stood back to examine their work, shaking his head in amazement, “I think this is very likely to work. It is so simple, I am ashamed not to have thought of it myself.”

“Well, if it fails I will continue to work on it,” Aiba answered easily. “Hopefully I will hit upon something effective.”

Sho offered Aiba one of his genuine, exceedingly gentle smiles. “This will be truly valuable to the ship,” he spoke quietly. “I wish I could do more to thank you.”

Aiba’s eyes traveled from Sho’s face to his chest, seemingly pleased with what he found there. His gaze lingered on Sho’s chest,

“If you truly wish to demonstrate your gratitude, will you consent to meet with me in your quarters after supper?”

“Of…of course,” Sho stuttered, unsure why his stomach seemed to have suddenly leapt into his throat.

“I will anticipate it,” Aiba responded, with a smile of barely-contained excitement.

 

*

 

Ohno handed Nino a light training sword. “Today, we will practice standing and holding the sword.”

Nino raised a skeptical brow. “Behold,” he gestured towards himself, “I have mastered the lesson already.”

Ohno moved behind him and began adjusting his legs. “Your stance should be wider.”

Nino resisted the action. “I feel more comfortable standing thus,” he answered.

“Then your opponent will act thus,” Ohno delivered a light strike to Nino’s leg with his foot, and Nino toppled to the floor, dropping his sword in the process. Ohno extended his hand.

Nino glowered up at him from the floor, clearly debating whether to take Ohno’s hand or reach for his fallen sword and cut Ohno off at the knees. “Try again?” Ohno offered.

Nino swallowed what was obviously a very pointed retort and accepted the captain’s proffered hand. Silently, he allowed Ohno to adjust his stance.

“…and so. Do you feel the difference in alignment?” Nino nodded stiffly. Ohno’s foot moved, and Nino found himself flat on the floor once again.

“Much better. And this time you held your sword. Now you must put more strength into your legs.” Ohno extended his hand,

“Again?”

Only because there was not a trace of a smirk on the captain’s face, Nino accepted his hand. “Again,” Nino grimaced.

 

*

 

Sho awaited Aiba’s entrance with some anxiety. While he had no idea why Aiba wished to meet with him privately, the memory of Aiba’s lingering gaze turned his mouth dry and made his heart beat rapidly. In a fit of panic, Sho had run to the looking-glass in his bedroom and, after a few moments of unsatisfactory posing, had considered stuffing the shoulders of his jacket with handkerchiefs. However, he’d managed to pull himself together and, turning the looking-glass to face the wall, returned to his office and began searching for the most casual (yet impressive) pose with which to greet Aiba. He settled for leaning against the mantelpiece (he felt the pose had a certain _je ne sais quoi_ ), but he decided it had been a mistake when he greeted Aiba’s entrance with an explosive sneeze (his incense collection had definitely grown far too extensive of late).

Aiba approached him with a friendly smile as he used a handkerchief to wipe at his nose. Aiba’s gaze returned to his chest. Sho swallowed. “I see that you possess a fine pocket watch,” Aiba grinned conspiratorially.

Sho reached to tough the gold chain of his watch, which hung on the left side of his chest and connected to the watch in his vest pocket. “Yes,” he managed, wondering where this conversation was headed.

“Does it keep time precisely? Unfortunately, my own has slowed and requires the skill of a good watchmaker.”

“Yes, it is in perfect order. I wind it regularly,” Sho answered, baffled.

“And last night I noticed this tiny hourglass on your desk. It measures one minute?” Sho nodded. “May I?” Sho nodded again. Aiba raised it. “Tonight,” he pronounced dramatically, “we will test Newton’s theories of gravitation. If we spin this timer, increasing its centripetal force, meaning that we increase the force of gravity on the object, then the sand inside should fall towards the earth at a faster rate. Theoretically, the top chamber could empty into the bottom in less than sixty seconds. We might defeat time,” Aiba finished triumphantly.

A small choking noise escaped Sho. “Intriguing, I agree,” Aiba nodded as he attached a thin rope (which seemed to have appeared out of nowhere) to the top of the glass.

Sho hadn’t known what to expect from this meeting (well, a few images had flashed across his mind), but he felt distinctly disgruntled to find himself keeping time with his pocket watch while Aiba twirled his minute-keeper about the room. And the complete hash that Aiba was making of the job only irritated him further. “No,” Sho sighed in exasperation, “your pace is not consistent. If you would only allow me…”

For the second time that day, Sho felt himself sliding from determined resistance into enthusiastic participation, a strange process (in sensation similar to his present dizzying voyage across the room) that Sho was learning to associate with Aiba’s presence. Soon, Sho was flushed and shouting encouragement as a dishelved Aiba spun about his office while Sho anxiously watched the movement of his watch’s second-hand.

“Complete!” Aiba cried. Sho almost leapt into the air. “Fifty-five! Fifty-five! The time sped up by five seconds!” The ecstatic pair found themselves crushed into a spontaneous manly embrace of celebration, which each tried rapidly to extricate himself from at the same moment, somehow resulting in Sho lying pinned beneath Aiba on the floor.

The two men stared at each other, panting. Sho knew he should move to push Aiba from him, but Aiba was remaining still and studying his face curiously. Aiba licked his lips and pronounced “Sho” in a low, deep voice that Sho had yet to hear from him until that moment. Sho felt boneless beneath him.

“Sho, how can it be that you are a pirate?” Aiba sat up but continued to straddle Sho. “I have never heard of a pirate who was a doctor of philosophy. Or who cared so much for manners. Or who dressed for supper. Or who was so weak at fighting.”

Sho began disentangling himself from beneath Aiba. “I did beat you once,” he muttered as he began brushing himself off. He stood up fully, “And, in spite of your opinion, most people are actually quite frightened of me.” 

Aiba continued to stare at him from the floor, with eyes so full of sympathy that Sho had to turn away and lean against the mantle to collect himself. “Would you truly like to hear my tale of woe?” he asked, trying (and failing) to inflect his voice with sarcasm.

“Yes,” Aiba answered softly as he stood. “But only if you wish to tell me. It was an impertinent request.”

Sho swallowed and shook his head, staring at the pencil drawing on the mantelpiece. “It is only that it is difficult to begin---I have never shared it.” Sho looked at his feet, thoughtful. Aiba remained silent, and after a few more moments, Sho spoke:

“Like you, I was captured by pirates. At that time, the Storm was captained by a man I knew only as John, the original Fisher King. Satoshi inherited his title---many do not even realize that the Storm has changed captains. When I arrived on the Storm, Satoshi was first mate. He was truly the discovery of John’s career---talented at whatever he put his hand to, a superb fighter, but with absolutely no ambition or thirst for power---the perfect first mate for a captain who ruled his ship with an iron fist. Satoshi had been orphaned at a young age. Until her death, he was raised by his mother, a trapeze artist in this circus. He spent some time in the circus and some time as a musician, but he was pressed into service by the British navy when he was only fourteen. John discovered his talent when the Storm attacked his ship and Satoshi managed to defend himself from the entire crew using only a mop. But you asked for my story, not Satoshi’s.” Sho shook his head, as if collecting his thoughts.

“When I was captured, I was twenty and headed to India to accept a post as a colonial administrator. I was the younger son of the Sakurai family” (Aiba gasped as he finally recognized that Sho’s surname referred to Lord Sakurai). “My sister drew this portrait of our family estate. I kept it with me during my travels.” Sho paused, seemingly unable to continue for a moment. “I did not wish to accept a post in the colonies, but my father wanted his second son’s position in life to be as illustrious as his eldest son’s. After the money spent on my education, he hoped that the colonial service would be a steppingstone to a political appointment back in England. I admit that I shared this wish.”

“When John first captured me, I thought that I would perish. I would not eat, I would not speak, I would not fight. I believe John had at first intended to ransom me, but he was already enormously wealthy at that point in his career, and he decided that he would prefer to have an educated man to manage his financial empire. He knew I would disdain to steal from him. He was a cruel man, and I believe the prospect of breaking my will gave him some pleasure. Perhaps if I had resisted less than, I would not be his successor now,” Sho laughed bitterly.

“I was beaten and tortured if I did not participate in his raids. I may have continued to resist and died of injury, if not for Satoshi.” Sho’s voice warmed. “He brought me food, tended my wounds, protected me in battle.” Sho shook his head wonderingly, “He said that he was used to a rough life, but that he felt sorry for a gentleman reduced to such a state. He would even throw himself in front of me when John would beat me and beg him to stop. Eventually, I accepted my position for Satoshi’s sake, and I imagined that I could revenge myself on John after I had won his trust.”

“But before I could put a dagger through his heart, John died, leaving Satoshi and I the ship and all his fortune. I wrote to my family to inform them that I could now return, but my father wrote back to discourage me. He believed that I would be prosecuted in England for the crimes I had committed as a pirate, as the deeds of the Storm were by then infamous. He wrote that he was ashamed to have me as a son. Two years ago…two years ago I learned that my family had held a funeral without my body. They have declared that I am dead,” Sho stopped, trying to still his trembling. Aiba was unsure whether to reach out to him, his hand hovering in air.

Sho resumed, “After John’s death, I insisted that Satoshi succeed him as captain. Satoshi protested, so we cut cards for the position.” Sho managed a fond smile. “Satoshi still has no idea that I stacked the deck. Now we run the Storm without beatings or torture, but we still roam the ocean as pirates. Neither of us has a home to return to. We discovered that the reputation of the fearsome Fisher King caused ships to surrender with hardly a fight. John was truly a monster---I have seen him gut men before my eyes,” Sho shuddered. “So we use fear to command obedience from the men we attack. Though apparently we are rather slipping in that area of late,” Sho finished, turning to Aiba with a small smile.

Aiba was wiping his face and chocking back the remaining tears that threatened to spill over. Sho’s heart constricted. “Thank you for trusting me with your story.”

Sho shook his head. “I am glad you asked. I feel strangely lighter after sharing it. Though I should caution you not to accept such a narrative at face value---I am afraid that you are too quick to trust the word of pirate,” Sho reproved gently.

“But you are not a very good pirate,” Aiba sniffed. The two men stood in silence for a few moments. “I am also a disappointment to my father,” Aiba confessed suddenly. “It is almost worse because he supports me so generously, even funding my expedition. But I know he would prefer if I remained at home to tend to the estate. Luckily, I have a younger brother willing to care for our inheritance. I am most grateful to dutiful younger brothers everywhere,” Aiba smiled.

Sho took a step toward Aiba, but the moment was interrupted by a sharp rap at the door. Sho hesitated, then spoke, “Enter.”

Nino stepped inside. “You wished to speak with me?” Deuce take him, Sho groaned inwardly, the man was right.

“Goodnight, Sho,” Aiba was already saying quietly and walking out the door before Sho could stop him.

Trying to recover from his disappointment, Sho replied to Nino, “Yes, I wished to inquire how Hiroki is recovering?”

“Very well. I have just come from attending to him. The wounds are healing nicely, and his hand no longer torments him so horribly.”

“Good,” Sho nodded vaguely, unable to conceal his distraction.

Nino observed him shrewdly. “I would return that dagger to Jun,” he announced suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“The purple dagger you took from Jun,” Nino repeated with a hint of accusation. “As a doctor, I am concerned for his condition---he has not slept and he barely eats. I would not be surprised if he ran the ship aground, considering the state he is in,” Nino suggested with a light note of menace. Then his tone softened, “Jun values that dagger beyond anything, I believe, and would be greatly comforted by its return. It was a gift to him from the first mate of the Maine.” Nino sent Sho a meaningful look.

“I see,” Sho responded, taken aback by Nino’s speech. Sho recalled Toma’s cries and frantic struggle as Jun left the Maine, as well as Jun’s shattered expression.

“If that is all, I shall retire for the night,” Nino concluded briskly, striding out of the room.

“That should be my line,” Sho mumbled with a soft sigh of defeat.

 

*

 

Sho found Jun at the ship’s wheel. Jun did not turn as he approached, so Sho stared at his profile and noted that sadness and anger were somehow etched into every line of his figure. “I know you intend to steer us off course.” 

Jun did not respond. 

“Would you agree to take us to port if I promised to free you when we reach the Americas?”

Sho saw Jun’s hands grip the wheel convulsively. “And why should I believe you?” he demanded, with the same terrifying calmness that Sho recalled from their previous encounter. Sho removed the dagger from his jacket and held it before Jun. Jun hesitated only a moment, his eyes hungry, before reaching out and snatching the dagger from Sho’s hand.

“If I do not free you, then you will at least have this weapon with which to seek your revenge. And if you do not take us to the Americas, you will never know whether I really might have freed you there,” Sho answered softly.

Jun finally turned to stare at Sho. “And how do you know that I will not put this dagger through your heart tonight?”

Now Sho turned to stare at the dark blue waves and starry night sky before them. “I think you are a good man. You offered yourself to save your friend. I am afraid of a good man made desperate by circumstances. But I know well that a good man with some hope---with some chance of meeting the one he loves---is unlikely to resort to pointless violence.”

Jun’s face betrayed his surprise at Sho’s words. “And you do not fear revenge from Nino or Aiba?”

Sho considered Jun’s question carefully. “Nino is a physician. His instinct is to save life, not to take it. And Aiba…he might challenge me to a duel, but…” he did not finish, but Jun nodded. Both men knew that Aiba was incapable of murder in cold blood.

“Since you are not a vicious fool, as I thought, I will trust you. For now,” Jun finished fiercely. But he allowed a small smile to tug at his lips as he turned the ship’s wheel, righting the course of the Storm.

 

*

 

Returning to his quarters, Sho realized that, in the excitement of their interview, he had forgotten to return Aiba's journal. Rather pleased to have an excuse for meeting with Aiba once more tonight, Sho gave himself a quick glance in the (now turned back to its proper position) looking-glass before heading out in search of Aiba’s cabin.

But Sho hadn’t expected the cabin he was directed towards to contain two laughing voices. He was even more surprised when Aiba answered his hesitant knock in his nightclothes, the door swinging wide to reveal a similarly-undressed Nino lounging on the room’s single bed. Sho barely responded to Aiba’s profuse thanks, able to hear little above the pounding of his heart.

Staring at the closed door before him---and hearing a fresh peal of giggles from inside---Sho recalled Aiba’s expression when he insisted, “I will not leave Nino!” and the affectionate way that Aiba wrote of his “friend” in his journal. 

And the hot jealousy Sho felt confirmed what he’d begun to fear since his encounter with Aiba that morning---that he was most stupidly, improperly, and desperately in love, in a manner totally unbefitting the dignity of a pirate and a gentleman.


	5. Chapter 5

Aiba would have felt guilty, only he was too happy to allow for such an unpleasant emotion. But he often wondered whether it was quite right to be so content aboard a pirate ship. Life on board the SS Storm had assumed its own thoroughly-pleasant routine, one that Aiba could not help but enjoy.

Nino tended his patients (there was never a shortage of complaints aboard ship) while Aiba helped with the crew’s work (despite Sho’s protests) and conducted his experiments (Sho granted Aiba permission for everything, and Aiba was glad to know that he had Ohno’s acquiescence up his sleeve, if he should ever require it). Both Aiba and Nino were engaged in a rigorous course of training led by Ohno; Aiba had immediately appealed to join upon hearing of it from Nino, and Ohno had agreed instantly (Aiba professed a deep love for Ohno, pleased by his evident concern for Nino as well as his instant submission to Aiba’s desires). The men formed a small class that met on deck to learn and spar each day, usually joined by Sho and eventually (to Aiba’s noisy and Nino’s quiet delight) by Jun.

Jun seemed to have recovered a great deal, speaking agreeably with Aiba and Nino and even managing to bark a few orders at the deck hands every now and then (Nino noted the return of the dagger to Jun’s side with approval). But Jun was still a shadow of his former self; however, even the shadow of Jun possessed very distinctive features.

Jun had been watching a match between Ohno and Nino at a distance when he heard Nino shout a (derisive) remark about Ohno’s “hand-sewn” pantaloons. After the match, Jun had approached Ohno with a serious expression and confessed his deep admiration for Ohno’s embroidery. The next day, Ohno presented Jun with a pair of pantaloons (the white with scarlet flowers that he had worn that fateful day on the Maine) and then asked Jun if would like to join their training. Confessing himself familiar only with his dagger and hand-to-hand combat (Jun had made his living for a few months as a bare-knuckle boxer), Jun had assented. Jun and Ohno formed an instant (if mostly silent) friendship. The five men soon developed the habit of training together in the evening and then taking supper together.

So, what with days spent swabbing the deck, placing various items in seawater and returning with Sho (and occasionally Ohno) to observe the results, and evenings of sword-fighting followed by lively conversation, Aiba found himself perfectly satisfied with life on board the Storm. He often reflected happily that he had never met such a pleasant company of fellows.

 

*

 

Sho was not satisfied. Although Sho’s daily life had improved greatly (or had it simply grown more absurd? It now involved rummaging through his quarters for objects that might decompose interestingly in seawater) since the day that Aiba and Nino had boarded the Storm, his nights were filled with restless tossing and endless internal questioning of Aiba’s potential feelings towards himself and Nino.

Sho was certain that Aiba liked him, but the difficulty was that Aiba _liked_ everyone. Within days, Aiba had made friends with every man aboard ship, and the crew began referring to him fondly as “our professor.” While Aiba always appeared very happy to see Sho, he greeted Sho’s approach and the approach of the ship’s cat, Miitan, with identical expressions of delight.

Standing beside Ohno, Sho watched with a troubled expression as Aiba and Nino sparred. The two men knew each other so well that their fencing matches were always interesting, occasionally drawing the attention of the crew. Today, Nino’s ability to predict Aiba’s actions had quickly won him the first bout, but Aiba’s greater strength had carried him to victory in the second. After fighting heatedly for two matches, however, the two men lost focus, and the third match devolved into something of a farce, with the two men playfully thwapping each other with the flats of their swords and tugging each other’s shirts over their heads.

Sho frowned. “Are you aware that Aiba and Nino share a cabin?” he muttered to Satoshi. Sho had been resisting mentioning this fact to Satoshi for some time, but after observing his fascination with Nino, Sho felt that he had a right to know as well. Yes, it was certainly for Satoshi’s sake that he mentioned this.

“Hmm,” Ohno nodded, his eyes never leaving Nino’s form. Ohno was pleased to note that Nino’s stance and strength had improved greatly, though the man was still too impatient in his thrusts.

Sho’s raised his eyebrows. “And that they even share a bed?” he muttered in an even softer tone.

“Mmm” Ohno nodded.

Sho was astonished. “How?” he cried, much louder than he had intended. 

“Aiba told me that Nino looks adorable as he sleeps. He then winked at me and told me that I should try the experiment myself sometime soon.”

Sho felt his heart lighten at Satoshi’s words, but his frown returned when he turned back to the match to discover Nino straddling and tickling a helplessly-laughing Aiba. “Practice is over for the day!” he cried loudly.

 

*

 

Nino was _definitely_ not satisfied. No matter what he did, it seemed that he could never gain the upper hand over his captain (Nino was not sure when Ohno had become his captain in his mind).

Nino felt that he had humbled himself to an unprecedented degree in his submission to Ohno’s strict training. And he hated the way that his heart filled with happiness whenever his captain smiled in approval or complimented his progress. But he had still never come close to besting Ohno in a match, a failure thrown into sharper relief by Jun’s prodigious skills as a swordsman. Nino seethed while Ohno marveled at Jun’s talent and unique form---Jun fought not with a traditional stance but with flexible, oddly-fluid movements that caught his opponents off their guard. 

“He looks like a mollusk,” Nino had complained sulkily to Ohno, “why do you not allow me to fight using a unique stance?”

Ohno smiled and raised his foot, “Shall we test the effectiveness of your former stance once more?”

To make matters worse, Ohno proved an excellent student, quickly mastering the medical knowledge and skills that Nino introduced him to. He was even rather better than Nino at dressing wounds.

It was not so much that he wanted to defeat his captain, Nino told himself. It was only that he wanted to have the same effect on his captain that he had on Nino---often silent or stupid, Ohno would suddenly perform a handsome action that would make Nino’s breath catch in his throat, or Ohno would murmur some dry observation that would leave Nino breathless with laughter. Nino wished to render Ohno breathless in turn.

Nino recalled the pleasure he’d felt the first time he had performed a few simple card tricks for Ohno. Ohno had watched with amazement, mouth agape, and applauded the demonstration with an almost child-like enthusiasm. Glowing, Nino had urged Ohno to attend one of the late night card parties he was in the habit of hosting (much to Sho’s displeasure---Sho insisted that they play for no higher stakes than shillings, a prohibition that resulted in the players betting their shillings in the hundreds).

Ohno had agreed readily, and Nino had felt proud to have his captain hear Nino called “Prince” by the other sailors (in abbreviation of “Card Prince,” Nino’s nickname among the crew in honor of his skill at cards and haughty air). However, Ohno had won the pot that night, calmly laying down a flush and asking with genuine curiosity, “Is this a good hand?” Ohno then had the gall to request that Nino perform some card tricks. Nino had thrown his shillings down and stomped, glowering, back to his cabin.

So tonight (after smirking at Sho’s insistence that practice was over---the man truly could not bear for anyone but himself to monopolize Aiba’s attention), Nino resolved to challenge Ohno. Despite his loss to Aiba, he felt himself in good form tonight, and he asked Ohno if he would postpone supper for a short bout. Ohno agreed immediately. Complaining that he was starved, Aiba led Sho to supper, leaving Nino and Ohno alone on the by now nearly deserted deck.

Without further words, the match began. Ohno recognized the determination in Nino’s expression. Playing energetically, Nino seemed close to besting Ohno for several minutes, but (Ohno noted) Nino was still too eager for victory, allowing gaps to appear in his technique that his opponent could easily exploit. Soon, Ohno had his sword pressed inches from Nino’s neck while Nino valiantly tried to push it back with his own sword. Their faces were barely three inches apart as they remained locked in struggle. Nino growled at the unconscious half-smile on Ohno’s face. Feeling the strength draining from his shaking arms, Nino cast about desperately for a means of distracting the captain---if only he could make him lose his focus for a moment…

Nino quickly pressed his lips against Ohno’s, drawing back after an instant of soft connection.

Nino wasn’t sure what he had expected---perhaps that Ohno would drop his sword, that he would stare back at him in shock, cheeks flushed and mouth agape, allowing Nino to quickly pin him against the ship’s rails.

What he hadn’t expected was for his captain’s smile to widen, and then for Ohno to lean in and press his lips against Nino’s for a much longer kiss.

Nino dropped his sword. He felt Ohno’s cold steel pressing lightly on his neck as Ohno gently sucked at his bottom lip. Breaking the kiss, Nino whispered, “Damn you, Captain,” with a stricken expression, then fled to his cabin, refusing to join the others for supper.

 

*

 

The next morning, Jun reported to Sho that they were in sight of Barbados, where they might collect fresh water and other supplies before completing the last leg of their journey to Rio de Janeiro. Sho nodded in approval as Jun suggested the safest (and most discrete) location that the pirate ship could put into port. A strange relationship of cautious mutual trust had developed between Jun and Sho, with Sho professing his absolute faith in Jun’s abilities and Jun occasionally approaching Sho to engage him in conversation about navigation, geography, and (surprisingly) piracy and the Storm’s methods of raiding ships, the finer points of which Jun took an eager interest in.

Sho reported to the crew that they would put into port today, causing much stir and excitement among the men. Nino approached Sho afterwards to confirm that he was free to leave the ship as well. Sho observed him doubtfully.

“You still do not trust me? Did I not agree to join your crew? If you refuse me, I will ask the captain,” he continued suddenly, recalling Aiba’s trick. Nino did not inform Sho that he had spent the morning hiding behind doors (and occasionally in barrels) in order to avoid said captain.

Sho still hesitated. “Then, you may leave, on condition that,” Sho appeared very reluctant to speak the next words, “Aiba remains on board.”

Nino looked at him with some surprise. “And that will prevent my escape?”

“I know you would not leave him,” Sho returned, almost sadly.

Nino considered for a few moments. “If Aiba agrees, then I am satisfied.” Sensing the captain approaching in his peripheral vision, Nino hurried off in the opposite direction, in desperate search of a convenient barrel.

 

*

 

Sho was incredibly relieved (he hadn’t realized how tense he had been) when Aiba quietly accepted the proposal. While Sho told himself that he was only doing his duty to insure that the ship retained such a capable surgeon, he was far more frightened that Aiba might leave the ship permanently. For his part, Aiba knew that he ought to be more offended that he was (once again) being used as a pawn to entrap Nino, but he was so relieved that Sho did not mention his offer to free him that he did not protest.

Jun declined to leave the ship (saying that he’d already spent enough of his life in filthy port cities), so Jun and Aiba watched from the prow as Ohno, Sho, and Nino boarded a small boat and made for the shore. While Nino hunched at the front, determinedly avoiding Ohno’s very confused gaze, Sho stared back longingly at Aiba’s eagerly-waving figure. Jun laughed quietly to himself at the company’s thoroughly-mismatched expressions.

 

*

 

Nino breathed deeply as he explored the squalid yet colorful streets, undeterred even by the stench of rotting garbage in his delight to be on land once more. There were also more pleasant tropical scents in the hot air, and Nino had to resist the urge to fall to his knees and kiss the ground. He’d managed to lose the captain after they’d disembarked, as Ohno was momentarily distracted by Sho’s conversation.

Now, Nino’s eyes swept the sun-baked streets for a likely prospect. Unlike most of the crew, Nino was not interested in drinking or whoring. Rather, he was seeking a game with high stakes. He played cards on board merely to keep in practice; the sailors possessed little worth taking. But surely this port held its share of the stupid rich. Nino finally located a gambling den built of considerably finer stone than the rest, with a fairly elaborate lacquered sign and a supercilious-looking guard at the door. This would do nicely, he thought with satisfaction, firmly pushing the image of his captain’s confused, almost sorrowful face to the back of his mind.

 

*

 

Several rounds in and Nino was beginning to regret his choice. He was winning steadily and pretending to drink steadily, taking small sips from his glass and occasionally dumping out its contents at his feet. But he wondered if the atmosphere wasn’t getting a bit too hot to handle.

Nino stared at the enormous, red-faced man across the table. Nino had immediately pegged him for an idiotic younger son shipped off to drink himself to death as a planter in the colonies, and the man _had_ turned out to be as bad with cards as he was with drink. But the man’s eyes were taking on an increasingly-murderous gleam as the play continued, and his three companions also appeared seriously displeased. Nino was no stranger to dangerous gambling dens and tavern brawls (he found that a scalpel made a handy weapon in a pinch), but he also knew when not to push his luck.

Nino moved as if to withdraw from the game, but the man seized his wrist in a vise-like grip and growled, “One more round.”

Nino still might have resisted, but when he glanced down at his cards, it took all his years of practice (and Nino had been playing---and winning---at cards since he was eight) to maintain his poker-face. This was no card trick---this was the genuine article. The hand of a lifetime. Unbeatable.

Both men went all in. When Nino laid down his cards with the slightest hint of a smirk and made to collect his winnings, his opponent let out a roar of frustration and came around the table to seize Nino by the collar. “You filthy cardsharping rat,” he spat.

Nino could barely breathe. His feet were no longer touching the floor. He kneed the man in the groin. With a howl, the man released a hand, reaching to grab an empty glass from the table and smashing it in half against the table's edge.

He then proceeded to drag the bottle’s jagged end across Nino’s face.

 

*

 

Ohno sighed softly as, with two careful fingers, he gently stroked the breast of a beautiful green parrot. He admired the bird’s curved beak, intelligent eyes, and yellow-tipped wings. “Aiba would like such a creature,” Ohno observed with a smile.

Sho turned at the mention of Aiba’s name, visibly-annoyed that he had not been the first to think of the gift. The two men stood in the city’s bustling open air market, negotiating with a supplier for goods and their delivery to the ship. Or rather, Sho insisted that Ohno stand beside him while he negotiated. Sho removed another pouch of coins from his coat and tossed it in with the others on the table. “We’ll take the parrot as well,” he ordered.

Ohno sighed softly again. “You truly have no idea where Nino was headed?”

“Now that I think on it, he mentioned something about a card game,” Sho replied, distracted by the row of figures on the receipt in front of him. “That rascal is incorrigible,” he muttered.

 

*

 

The man raised the glass as if to strike it across Nino’s skull, but faster than he could have thought possible, Nino had unsheathed the sword at the man’s side and sliced the man across his forearm. The man released him with a cry, and his companions began to advance.

Ignoring the blinding pain (indeed, blood was trickling into Nino’s eyes, obscuring his vision), Nino cut a line across the man’s chest, and in a few more moves, he had him pinned against the table, his body remembering the motions that Ohno had taught him even as his mind went blank. “Would anyone else like another round?” Nino growled quietly, lightly nicking the man’s neck while reaching out to stuff his pockets with his winnings. The man’s companions retreated nervously.

Keeping his sword at the ready before him, Nino stumbled backwards out of the gambling den as players cried out in terror around him.

Once on the street, Nino dazedly threw the sword aside. He made it three paces before he found himself in the arms of a very horrified looking Ohno.

“Captain,” he gasped up at him, tasting his own blood in his mouth. “Captain, I won,” he managed, and then he fainted in the middle of the street.

 

*

 

Nino woke in an unfamiliar (and much too comfortable) bed. Opening his eyes slowly (blast! When had it hurt so much to open his left eye?), Nino first noticed a looking-glass on the opposite wall. He must be in Sho’s bedroom, he realized. Turning his head, he discovered a wide-eyed captain kneeling beside him and clutching his left hand with his own. Nino wriggled his fingers in the warm grasp. Farther off, Aiba was clutching the front of a worried looking Sho, pressing his face into Sho’s chest in an attempt to stifle the sobs that were convulsing his body. Jun leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets, studying his feet.

“Captain,” Nino rasped out. As if electrified, Aiba, Sho, and Jun turned to stare at him. Nino and Ohno met each other’s eyes. “Tell Sho and Jun to take Aiba out of the room. Do not allow him to return until I say so.” Ohno turned and nodded towards Sho and Jun. At first, Aiba resisted, making a noise of protest, but after observing Nino’s implacable expression, he allowed the two men to lead him from the room.

When all had left, Nino spoke again. “Bring me the looking-glass,” he ordered. 

Silently, Ohno removed the glass from the wall and positioned it so that Nino might examine his face. There were scratches and several fairly-deep gouges starting from the bottom of Nino’s right jaw and continuing diagonally to above his left eye. Nino saw that Ohno had already cleaned the cuts and bandaged the area above his eye (there was a wash basin and several blood-soaked cloths beside the bed).

“Remove the bandage above my eye.” Ohno carefully drew it back. Nino groaned at the sight. He knew that area had stung too much for a cut. The glass had torn his skin open. It was still bleeding. “This requires stitches. You will find a needle and thread in my bag.” 

For the first time in their acquaintance, Nino saw Ohno look absolutely terrified. “Nino! I cannot…I have never…”

“If you can stitch a piece of cloth, then you can stitch a wound.” Nino showed Ohno his trembling hand. “Believe me, I would stitch it myself if I were able. You must, captain,” Nino pleaded softly, gazing at him seriously. “There is no other man I can trust with the task.” Then, in a rougher tone, “What? You think my breathtaking visage of less importance than a pair of pantaloons?”

Swallowing, Ohno retrieved Nino’s case. After placing an opium-soaked handkerchief to Nino’s nose, he began disinfecting the wound. Nino flinched and bit down on his left hand to still his trembling. Ohno pulled the hand from his mouth and offered his own while his right hand continued to work, “Take my hand,” he offered softly. By the time Ohno had finished, Nino had broken the skin and left a curved, Nino-shaped imprint on the back of Ohno’s hand.

“Now I must guide you through the task. Show me your right hand first. Good, it does not tremble. Do exactly as I tell you, and for god’s sake, do not stop even if I flinch.”

Ohno followed Nino’s instructions carefully, sweat pouring down his face but his hands remaining sure. Nino jerked occasionally---and Ohno could hear the pain in his voice---but for the most part Nino managed to hold himself still. When Ohno had finished, he called for the mirror again. “Good,” he nodded, inspecting Ohno’s work. “Excellent.” Nino’s eyes were becoming unfocused and his speech slurred---he began to feel as though his head were disconnected from his body. “Captain, how much opium did you just give me?”

“Er, I was rather nervous when I poured it. About a quarter of the bottle?”

Nino groaned. “Simpleton,” he slurred.

 

*

 

Ohno stayed beside Nino, holding his hand while the surgeon fell into a fevered sleep. Nino rambled in his delirium, delivering medical orders or repeating instructions from their fencing less, “Thrust, parry, thrust…” Occasionally, he called out to Aiba, but mostly he cried out "Mother" and a female name that Ohno had never heard Nino mention before. Every few minutes, he called out “Captain!” and gripped Ohno’s hand. Eventually, he fell into a quiet sleep, and Ohno dozed off as well, but only after confirming that Nino's sleeping face was, indeed, adorable.

He woke to find Nino’s brown eyes studying him.

“How do you get on?”

“Well.”

“You are not in too much pain?”

"No."

“Good. Then may I inquire why you nearly got yourself killed for the sake of a card game?” To Nino’s amazement, Ohno’s voice was actually shaking with fury. He had never seen his captain in the grip of such strong emotion. Before Nino could open his mouth, Ohno continued, “Do you care so much for money? If so, I will hand you the key to my chest now. Or do you play for the thrill of victory?” he demanded.

Nino hesitated. He did not wish to speak the truth, but he could not bear for Ohno to think him such a fool. “I do not play for my own amusement.”

“Then why? Do you really require so much money?”

Nino’s next words were clearly a struggle. “It is for my mother and sister,” he burst out finally. He mentioned the name that Ohno had heard him call out in his delirium “My father died when I was very young. We have no means of support, not even family connections. And my father left debts. I fought for years to train and establish a practice, but the income is still not enough. Especially for a dowry, if my sister should wish to marry.”

Ohno observed him more quietly. “Could you promise me not to play for such high stakes again?”

“No,” Nino replied quietly, “They cannot do without the income.”

Ohno looked ready to tear the room apart in frustration. Finally, he seized Nino’s hand again, obviously still angry but intent on suppressing it. “You will drive me to madness,” he spoke quietly. “When you fell into my arms, with blood streaming down your face, I thought that my life was over.”

Nino swallowed and shook his head. “I do not understand why you care for me so much.”

“What?”

“I do not know what you find to admire. You best me at everything---sword-fighting, cards. I fear that, with a proper education, you would even be a better surgeon. You are kinder and cleverer. And now you are certainly more handsome,” Nino finished sadly.

Ohno looked at their intertwined hands. “You do not listen. I told you the first time we spoke. You are brave.” Nino looked ready to protest, but Ohno cut him off. “I am weaker than you know,” he confessed. “Without Sho, or you, I would never even enter the game. But you never stop fighting.” Ohno met Nino’s eyes with a smile.

Nino blinked as his eyes filled with tears. He opened his mouth.

Ohno smirked, “Or talking.”

“Mute,” Nino returned, reaching out to strike his head. But it was almost a caress.

 

*

 

Nino declared himself recovered after only a few hours---he would need to be careful of his face while the scratches healed, but he was otherwise uninjured (he tried to joke that perhaps he required Ohno’s eye-patch, but Ohno seriously shook his head “No” in return).

So Nino returned to the cabin he shared with Aiba that very night, though he almost turned back after opening the door to discover Aiba sitting cross-legged on the bed, weeping softly and stroking a small green parrot perched on his left hand.

Aiba’s joy at Nino’s return knew no bounds, and the parrot flapped about excitedly overhead as Aiba seized Nino in a crushing embrace. “My brother in arms,” he choked out, “I thought that we were torn asunder forever.”

Nino rolled his eyes (ouch, that still rather hurt for some reason). “It is only a few scratches,” he protested, but he couldn’t help smiling at Aiba’s concern. Aiba pulled back and examined his face carefully before appearing satisfied. The parrot fluttered to a stop on Aiba’s shoulder. Aiba’s face suddenly assumed a solemn expression, and he opened his mouth to begin, but Nino quickly raised his hands to stop him. “Please, Aiba. I have already been thoroughly lectured by Ohno on the error of my ways. I do not require another scolding from you.” 

Aiba continued to look suspicious, however, so, hoping to distract him, Nino quickly asked, “What is that filthy beast doing flying about my room?”

Aiba smiled wide enough to split his own face in two. “He is not filthy,” he replied happily. “He is a gift from Sho.” Aiba turned and kissed the parrot’s curved beak softly. Nino pretended to gag. “I thought of calling him Nino.”

“You wish to name that gaudy terror after me?” Nino cried, obviously nettled. “At the very least, is that not rather confusing?”

“Kazu, then,” Aiba amended. “It’s not as if you are not constantly squawking as well,” he muttered under his breath. Nino tossed a pillow at his head in response. Kazu took off, squawking in distress.

Aiba laughed, “You are only lucky that you have a problem with your face today, my friend, or I’d have you crying out for mercy in seconds.”

“I suppose that makes me a very lucky man, then,” Nino grinned.

 

*

 

After the excitement and terror of Nino’s injury, the following days passed relatively peacefully. Nino received the sincere well-wishes of Sho and Jun. Ohno presented Nino with the gleaming, new model pistol that he had purchased for him on shore.

And Aiba took it upon himself to approach Ohno and “give him his blessing to take Nino’s hand,” as he phrased it. “In the time I have known Nino, I have never seen him place such trust in anyone. And now I am certain that it is well-deserved. I would be proud to call you my brother in arms.” Tears slipped from Aiba’s eyes as he smiled warmly while wringing Ohno’s hand.

“Thank you,” Ohno replied solemnly. He was slightly unsure what a “brother in arms” was, but he returned Aiba’s firm grasp.

However, these uneventful days aboard the Storm came to an abrupt end one night at supper, when Jun cleared his throat to request the attention of the table. Four pairs of eyes turned to him in surprise (technically, it was five pairs of eyes, as Kazu also turned to Nino from his perch on Aiba’s shoulder). Jun usually joined them for supper, but he spoke little and never demanded their attention.

“I have a plan to propose,” Jun began carefully. The others continued to look surprised but remained quiet. “I know these routes well, and before we reach Rio, I believe that we have an excellent chance to make an enormous capture.” The others exchanged concerned glances, clearly afraid that Jun had become unhinged. “These waters will be frequented by large, wealthy ships, captained by villains---slave traders. The scum will be returning from the Americas with hulls filled with cash, gold, cotton, and rum.” Jun’s eyes sparkled as he leaned forward. “I propose we raid them. The take would be enormous.”

Sho appeared intrigued but immediately began to protest, “But such a ship may be too large to capture.”

Jun shook his head eagerly. “Not with the five of us. We have all become skilled in fighting and can lead the raid. From what you have told me, you operate primarily through terror.” Jun sat back with a smirk of satisfaction, “I am certain that, if we plan this carefully enough, we can create a performance that will scare them witless and obtain their submission with little injury or loss of life.”

Frowning, Sho recalled Jun’s airborne entrance into the fighting on the Maine. The man certainly had a flair for the dramatic.

“I think it is a good idea,” Ohno suddenly offered, startling everyone at the table. Even Kazu gave a squawk that sounded suspiciously like “Eh?” To Ohno own surprise, the wheels in his head were turning---Nino required a fortune, but he would not accept it from Ohno. However, if he won it through his own skill at piracy…

Jun sent Ohno a grateful glance.

“But Jun,” Aiba inquired softly from the other end of the table, “why should you wish to risk your safety in this way?”

Jun frowned and stared at his nails. “I have my own debts to repay,” he finally murmured. The four exchanged looks, all thinking of Toma.

Finally, Nino stretched his arms above his head and broke the silence, smirking, “I would like to see how my new pistol handles.”

Aiba caught his excitement, “And I might test my skills at swordplay,” he grinned.

Sho looked displeased, but slowly nodded, “With a good plan, it could work.”

“Trust me,” Jun smiled.

 

*

 

The next several days were filled with intensive training and even more intensive planning. Jun was planning a grand raid indeed, and he entered into every detail of the arrangements, even insisting on final approval of the clothing they were to wear that day. To Sho’s horror, Jun’s planning also involved extensive practice swinging about on the ship’s rigging and climbing up the masts. More than once, a terrified Sho had to be coaxed back to the deck by Aiba’s soothing voice instructing him where next to place his foot. 

Soon, Jun had a desirable ship in his sights and announced that they should be prepared to raid as soon as tomorrow. Sho frowned at the paraphernalia that covered his desk, all related to the upcoming venture. “We have never attempted such a complex attack before. You are confident that we will succeed?”

Jun casually examined a few pages before looking up and meeting Sho’s eyes. “If it is the five of us, then I believe we will succeed,” he replied firmly.

Sho smiled. It was difficult to argue with such logic.

Jun and Sho returned to the deck to join the others in practice. However, they discovered the three in the midst of break, with Ohno drawing a portrait of Kazu (who was modeling most patiently, his chest puffed out proudly) for Aiba in his journal. Nino looked on with quiet pride while Aiba gazed at Ohno adoringly. “Ohno, this is wonderful,” he breathed, admiring the graceful, detailed likeness of Kazu. “I cannot thank you enough. How I wish I had your skill with a pen,” he marveled. “If only you were a naturalist, imagine the beautiful and useful work you might produce!”

Sho felt himself grow hot. Before he could stop himself, he had stepped forward, almost snatching the journal from Ohno’s hands. “I can offer you my services as well, Aiba,” he proclaimed, eagerly taking up the pen. After a few minutes, Sho paused to evaluate his work. He appeared to have drawn a fur-covered snowman.

“Sho!” Aiba cried, his displeasure evident. He snatched the journal back while Ohno and Nino fell to the deck, convulsed with laughter. “Please,” Aiba flushed angrily, “do not treat my research as the subject of a joke.”

Jun smiled at Sho’s devastated expression. Perhaps he had already punished Sho enough, he decided.

 

*

 

Later that night, Jun was enjoying the cool breeze and gazing into the thickly-starred sky, a hand resting on the dagger at his waist.

As he had expected, he soon heard the sound of Sho’s footsteps as the first mate made his final survey of the ship before retiring for the night.

“Sho!” he called. The footsteps stopped. “I have something which I must speak to you about. Come to the crow’s nest.”

He heard Sho’s feet shuffling down below. “May we not discuss it as well on deck?” he finally replied, his voice strained.

Jun smiled. “No,” he responded immediately. “It may only be discussed in the crow’s nest. And it is a matter concerning Aiba.”

Jun heard Sho’s deep sigh as he approached the rope ladder and cautiously began to climb. Jun leaned over the side of the crow’s nest and began shaking the ladder, smirking at Sho’s piteous cries of protest. Perhaps he wasn’t quite through punishing Sho.

Sho was glaring daggers at Jun when he finally reached the top. “And now may I ask what this important matter concerning Aiba is?” he demanded icily, trying to suppress his panting.

Jun folded his arms across his chest, evidently prepared to stare Sho down. “I have called you out to inform you that you are a fool, and that you should be a man and confess your love to Aiba as soon as possible.”

Sho seemed to be choking, his mouth opening and closely uselessly in response (rather like a caught fish, Jun noted). At first, Sho looked as though he were contemplating throwing himself over the side of the crow’s nest. But after the initial shock, a strange sense of relief seemed to wash over him---Sho had to admit that it would be a relief to unburden his woes to someone. “How did you…?”

“I have some experience with unrequited love,” Jun replied dryly. And you could not have been more obvious, he added silently.

Sho seized upon his words, “But you see the impossibility of it! If it is unrequited, as you say…”

Jun shook his head. “No. Pardon me, I only meant to refer to a love in which you have failed to confess. I am sure that Aiba cares deeply for you.”

Sho somehow managed to look both hopeful and miserable at the same time. “But Aiba and Nino,” he began, looking as though he were swallowing knives.

Jun shook his head again. “Aiba and Nino are like you and Satoshi. There is only friendship between them.”

Sho looked aghast and unconsciously raised a hand to his heart, as though overwhelmed by its current activity. Jun allowed Sho a few minutes of contemplation.

It was Sho who broke the silence. “But why should you perform such a generous act towards me, your captor?”

Jun examined the stars, confirming that they were on the right course. “You returned my dagger and promised to free me. And I regret every day that I did not share my feelings when I had the chance. I cannot bear to see another---even you,” Jun smiled, “commit the same mistake.”

“Toma does not know of your love?” Sho asked, astonished. From what he had seen, he was sure that Toma cared passionately for Jun. “Why did you not confess?” Sho pursued, feeling as if Jun’s dilemma might shed some light on his own.

Sho feared that he had offended Jun when the man did not respond immediately. But finally he replied, “I was afraid that he did not share my feelings. But, more than that, I feared that he would reject me even if he did have some liking for me. Toma is an exceedingly honorable person---there are few men to equal him. He believes that any affection I might feel for him would be the result of my circumstances---that it would be the love of a victim for his savior, or the love of a chick for the first face he encounters after hatching,” Jun sighed.

“But how can you be sure…”

“I have heard him speak the words.” Jun would always regret the night he had overheard that conversation between Shun and Toma. “But now that we are apart, I realize that I should have worked to overcome all obstacles to his acceptance. My feelings for Toma have always been those of passionate love. Toma believes that we met because I was attempting to pick his pocket. But I had only wanted to touch him.”

“Where did you put your hand?” Sho exclaimed, clearly shocked.

Jun smirked. “Back then, I was not so skilled with words as I am now. I preferred gestures.”

The two men looked out each and then, at the same moment, burst out laughing.

*

From his position on the deck, Aiba felt his chest tighten painfully at the sound of Jun and Sho’s laughter. He ought to be delighted that his two dear friends were finally getting along so well, he thought miserably. So why did the sight of the two standing so near, laughing and gazing up at the stars (Sho had even overcome his fear of heights to reach Jun, Aiba noted) make him feel as though someone had delivered a blow to his stomach?

Aiba had climbed out of bed to sneak a peak at the progress of his latest “leave it be” experiment---a pair of Ohno’s dark blue pantaloons placed in seawater---but he had been arrested in his course by the silhouettes of Sho and Jun against the starry night sky.

Now, he returned to the cabin with his love for Sho feeling like a twisting knot at his heart.

In the dark, he slid into bed beside Nino. Kazu snoozed quietly on the edge of the cabin’s open porthole.

“Nino?” Aiba called softly.

“Hmpgh?”

“Have you ever felt that your heart might explode at the sight of someone’s smile?”

Nino turned towards him. “You mean when your heart beats rapidly when they enter the room?”

“And you think you would do anything to catch their eye?” Aiba continued.

“And you believe that you might disappear if they turn their gaze away for a moment?”

“And you feel that you would step in front of a sword to save them?”

“Or you know that you might accomplish anything as long as they were near?

“And then you realize that you are not satisfied. At all,” Aiba groaned softly.

The two men stared at each other in the dark. Aiba reached for Nino’s hand.

“Nino, I fear that the madness on this ship is catching.”

“Most definitely,” Nino concurred, giving Aiba’s cold hand an answering squeeze.


	6. Chapter 6

Jun looked at his assembled comrades with quiet pride. He kept his face stern, however, as he carefully examined their regalia. Nino had been prepared to protest, but Aiba, Sho, and Ohno had simultaneously sent Nino a look, and, quelled by the (rather sickening) sight of three pairs of adorable, earnest eyes, Nino had stifled his pride and fallen in line with the others. Ultimately, Nino knew as well as the rest how very important this venture was to Jun---planning the raid seemed to have given Jun a purpose, pulling him from his melancholy.

Jun nodded in satisfaction at Ohno’s appearance. Ohno wore his blue, gold-lined coat and Napoleonic hat as usual. After much debate and experimentation, Jun had agreed with Sho that an eye patch rendered Ohno ever-so-slightly more menacing (now that he knew Ohno’s gentle nature, it was difficult for Jun to gauge what might be terrifying and what was simply adorable when it came to Ohno). Ohno wore his sword at his side, and he had sewn a pattern of small white sharks onto his blue pantaloons (Jun hadn’t the heart to tell Ohno that wasn’t what he had in mind when he advised him to create an “intimidating costume”). 

Jun gave Sho a careful once over, trying to suppress a smile at the fact that Sho had listened to Aiba’ suggestion. While Sho had absolutely refused to abandon his practice of wearing two coats, he had followed Aiba’s recommendation that he wear two differently-colored coats---now, an inner yellow coat complimented his scarlet outer coat. He wore a sword at his side, but Jun had learned that Sho’s weapons were mostly for decoration. Sho possessed another new item: a shark tooth’s earring in his (still slightly stinging) piercing---another suggestion (and experiment) of Aiba’s that Sho had submitted to. 

Jun finally allowed himself to smile when he arrived before Aiba---the sparkling excitement in Aiba’s eyes was simply too contagious. Aiba wore a handsome green velvet jacket and his leather trousers, as well as a pair of Sho’s old boots. He’d wound a colorful scarf that Sho had picked up in India about his neck. He wore a sword and a leather satchel, which was currently stuffed with supplies for the raid. To give him an appropriately piratical look, Kazu perched on his right shoulder, wearing a small yellow kerchief that Ohno had sewn for him.

Jun shook his head in disapproval when he reached Nino. Nino wore a bold yellow jacket with white trimming (slightly too large for him) that he’d rustled up from the bottom of a trunk. He wore a sword as well as two pistols, one at his waist (secured to a wide leather belt) and one concealed inside his coat. Covered in scars (with the cross-stitching above his eye still visible), Nino’s scowling visage really was rather menacing. He wore a pair of plain black breeches, which Jun eyed with displeasure. “I’m afraid that simply won’t do,” Jun began, a glint of amusement in his eye. 

Nino huffed, irate, but then Ohno stepped forward, arms outstretched to offer Nino a pair of embroidered pantaloons. Ohno looked to the side shyly as he presented them, as if nervous that Nino might laugh at him or reject the gift. With wide eyes, Nino accepted the garment, running his hands over the ochre-colored material, which Ohno had accented in orange thread with a meticulously embroidered pattern of skull-and-bones. Flowers bloomed from the eyes of the skulls. Nino gazed at the work with awe. Finally, he raised his eyes to his captain; Ohno still looked shy but was smiling softly, clearly pleased by Nino’s reaction.

“As expected of our captain,” Nino pronounced. Ohno nodded and turned away. Jun smirked while Sho and Aiba exchanged gleeful looks. Nino retired to Sho’s closet to change while Jun turned to Sho’s looking glass to place the finishing touches on his own (lack of) apparel.

Jun wore Ohno’s white and scarlet-flowered pantaloons, a pair of light, flexible sandals, and a wide purple sash that secured the dagger and sword at his side. Now, he applied some charcoal to outline his eyes. He wore his hair loose, completing the impression of a fearsome (if flamboyant) gypsy fighter. He also wore several large rings on his fingers, which Aiba knew from experience could be quite painful against the back of one’s head. 

Nino emerged from Sho’s closet and allowed Ohno to examine the fit. Then, Ohno looked into Nino’s eyes and raised a hand to his face, following Nino’s jagged scars with the tips of fingers, stroking from his eye to his jaw. “You look far more like a pirate then myself,” he said with a smile. Nino swallowed and took his captain’s hand. Though neither spoke of it---as if by some tacit agreement---each man was determined to protect the other during the day’s venture.

On the other side of the room, Sho held Aiba by the shoulders, standing before him with a pleading look.

“…and I will not run off to take on the crew by myself,” Aiba repeated back dutifully, but in a tone of annoyance.

“Good. Now promise me that if you lose your sword, you will hide yourself until I find you.” Aiba tsked in annoyance and shrugged Sho’s hands from his shoulders.

“Sho, you underestimate me,” he began, eyes flashing. “It is far more likely that you will require my protection.”

“I only wish for you to avoid injury…” Sho protested, but he was interrupted by Jun, who commanded the attention of the room.

“Enough. This venture will prove worthwhile only if we have faith in each other’s abilities, and we do not allow emotion to cloud our minds.” Jun sent Sho a piercing look. “Now, let us assemble,” Jun ordered. The five quickly entered a huddle. “A word from our captain,” Jun requested seriously. 

Ohno looked taken aback, but he promptly offered, “The body is of the greatest importance in our profession. Avoid injury, and let us capture the booty we seek.”

“Aye, aye captain,” the others mumbled, except for Aiba, who burst out passionately, “Let us create a storm throughout the world!”

The company grinned as they felt heat beginning to course through their veins. Eyes burning, Jun finished, “For treasure and honor!”

“For treasure and honor!” the entire company shouted after him in unison. Kazu squawked excitedly.

 

*

 

Jun was relieved that, at the very least, Sho possessed the ability to be a persuasive orator when the occasion called for it. While

Jun aimed at bringing the Storm flush to its target---the SS Poole---Sho’s education in rhetoric was clearly paying off as he masterfully roused the crew’s fervor. Flanked by Ohno, Nino, and Aiba---the four together a truly impressive sight---Sho stoked his crew’s fury with descriptions of the atrocities committed by slave-traders, and their lust with accounts of the enormous wealth likely to be on board.

Jun coolly continued his approach even as the Storm was rocked by the Poole’s cannon blasts. While the Storm also had cannons at the ready, the Poole was far larger and held more men---perhaps double the crew of the Storm. And unlike the Maine, the Poole held valuable goods that the men would go to great lengths to protect. Though the ship was still vulnerable to pirate attack, any other captain would have deemed Jun’s intention---to subdue the Poole without losing a single member of the Storm’s crew---mere folly.

While the ships continued to exchange fire, Jun pulled up beside the Poole. He signaled to the other four, who immediately climbed the rigging of the Storm, seizing the prepared ropes and swinging across to land in the upper sails of the Poole, where they quickly located hand and foot-holds (Sho swore that his entire life passed before his eyes as he crossed from one ship to the other---only the fear of Jun drove him on). Kazu took flight to circle anxiously about the ship’s masts. 

On the deck below, the crew of the Poole began to break ranks in confusion, surprised by the airborne entrance of the four striking figures. Their captain---a beefy, bearded man---urged his crew to fire, but as they took aim, Aiba removed what looked like a large clay ball from his satchel and flung it to the deck. There, the object smashed, belching forth great clouds of smoke. Aiba had spent several days engineering these smoke bombs after discovering Sho’s trove of Chinese fireworks. They were quite effective, their only flaw being a tendency to explode unexpectedly.

In the smoky confusion, Ohno and Nino slid down to the deck. They rapidly made their way to the ship’s lower level in order to disarm the ship’s cannons.

The two took the crew manning the cannons by surprise, as much with their appearance as their unexpected arrival; the men were momentarily struck dumb by the sight of the two small men---one with an enormous hat and eye patch, the other dressed in bright yellow and orange, with a face that looked like---well, like a broken bottle had been dragged across it.

Grinning, Nino held the men at gunpoint while Ohno bound them tightly with a roll of bandage pulled from his pantaloons. Nino produced a metal canister from his enormous coat and proceeded to drench their matches and cannon shot in water. Just for good measure, Nino smashed a full bottle of liquid opium in the center of the room as he and Ohno made to exit, cheerfully calling out “Pleasant dreams!” over his shoulder. Closing the door securely behind them (Ohno jamming it with a well-placed piece of wood), the two men exchanged a nod before hurrying to make a thorough inventory of the ship’s holdings and tackle any man hiding below deck.

 

*

 

Sho and Aiba smiled in satisfaction as they heard the Poole’s cannons cease to fire. At this silence, the crew of the Storm began streaming onto the deck of the Poole, prepared for Aiba’s smoke bombs with kerchiefs covering their mouths and noses. 

Now the fighting began in earnest, and Sho and Aiba leapt into the fray while Jun swung from the Storm to the topmost mast of the Poole. Quickly cutting the rigging to prevent anyone from reaching him, Jun (joined by Kazu) began swinging about the topsails with assurance, teasingly shredding the Poole’s sails with his dagger, purposefully drawing the crew’s pistol fire towards himself; Jun’s risky flight freed Sho and Aiba to focus on subduing those with swords. Jun dodged the shots as if by magic, and at the sight of the gypsy with the glinting dagger flying through the sky, men began shouting that the devil himself was descending upon their ship, drawn by the vicious crimes they had committed.

Aiba and Sho worked methodically to incapacitate the crew on deck, using well-placed smoke bombs, firecrackers, and even buckets of tar prepared by Aiba and wielded by the Storm’s crew to divide the Poole’s crew into small, confused groups that could be tackled more easily. Many men surrendered immediately in fear while others dropped to their knees to plead for mercy after being disarmed. Soon, the deck was filled with men bound together in surrender. At times, Aiba and Sho fought separately, while at others they wielded their swords back to back, but they always remained intensely aware of each other’s position on deck. 

A series of quick shots announced Nino and Ohno’s return to the deck, where they immediately focused their attention on the ship’s last remaining pocket of resistance---a cadre of the ship’s management, skilled fighters, and men wealthy enough to possess pistols. Almost driven mad by Jun’s wanton destruction of their sails, they tried to climb the masts only to be frustrated by a well-aimed smoke bomb.

Ohno began to cut through this company with his sword, and Nino slid on both knees through Ohno’s legs as he whipped out his arms, shooting from the deck as he alternated between pistols.

Enthused by their success thus far, Sho excitedly jumped into the group of skilled fighters, soon regretting his foolhardy action as he rapidly found himself disarmed and scrambling to avoid the sword thrusts of a much larger man. 

“Satoshi!” he cried, as he was used to do when the fighting grew too hot. But no Satoshi appeared instantly at his side. Casting his eyes about as he dodged another thrust, Sho’s gaze landed on Satoshi as he stood protecting Nino, using his sword to fend off attackers while Nino used him as a kind of rampart, ducking behind Ohno’s back and then emerging to snipe at other armed fighters.

Strange as it was in the midst of his desperate battle (then again, was it not said that time slowed down just before your death?), Sho felt his heart swell with both pride and pain as he recognized---as he never had before---that he and Satoshi were no longer everything in the world to each other. Now, Nino would the first man Ohno looked to when he entered a room or surveyed a ship’s deck. He is always so single-minded, Sho thought fondly, preparing himself to be run through by his enemy’s sword.

But the piercing steel never came. Instead, Sho was thrown to the deck and defended by a growling Aiba, who thrust at the man wildly as he stood protectively over Sho. Aiba managed to hold him off, but just barely, as the larger man continued to pressure him. Then Sho heard a cry and looked up to discover Jun above him, halfway down the mast and clutching a splintered section of wood in his hand while Kazu fluttered at his side.

“Sho!” Jun cried out again, “Falling plank!” He tossed the wood to Sho, who (to his own astonishment) caught the heavy piece one-handed and sprang up, pushing Aiba aside and striking the plank across the man’s face. It knocked him out cold. Panting, Sho threw the plank aside, noting that Ohno and Nino were securing the last of the Poole’s crew. Jun jumped from the mast to handle those who continued to struggle, making short work of the ship captain's resistance with a few well-aimed thrusts of his dagger.

With an inarticulate cry, Sho turned to a still-stunned Aiba and, seizing the sides of his face, smashed their mouths together. Aiba cried out in surprise, affording Sho a chance to deepen the kiss. As they pressed against each other, Aiba’s satchel slipped from his shoulder and hit the deck. The satchel’s final bomb exploded, igniting the bag’s remaining fireworks and consuming Aiba and Sho in a cloud of smoke and shimmering golden sparks.

 

*

 

“I fear Jun will never forgive us.” Aiba winced as Nino cleaned the burn on his right leg. From his prone position on the bedroll beside Aiba’s, Sho was biting his lip to stop himself from whimpering---he sported a matching burn down the length of his left leg. In the end, the smoke bomb had done little damage, but the firecracker had scorched the legs of both Aiba and Sho. Sho had politely allowed Aiba to receive treatment first, blushing to a painful degree as he murmured that it was, after all, his fault that Aiba had been injured. The two men’s eyes had not met once since the explosion had sent them flying apart in surprise.

“Well,” Nino spoke dryly, “you did rather spoil his moment of triumph. I believe he was about to make some kind of dramatic pronouncement with his dagger at the captain’s throat when you---or rather, Aiba’s satchel---upstaged him. And of course you spoiled the otherwise flawless execution of his plan.”

Aiba sighed in relief as Nino began applying a salve. “Any good plan should allow for an element of the natural and spontaneous,” Aiba defended himself stubbornly.

“Yes,” Nino observed as he bandaged Aiba’s leg, “and one strip of hairless skin is so natural and spontaneous-looking on a man’s leg.” Aiba frowned but recognized that he had been argued to a standstill.

“Do not worry about Jun,” Nino added, softening. “I will plead for you. I am in Jun’s good graces at the moment.” Nino smiled proudly. Nino had discovered the enormous cache of gold coins hidden behind a false panel in the captain’s office. “He may even have said something about me being his brother in arms. I think he rather lost his head for a moment,” Nino laughed. Then he continued in an uncompromising tone, “Aiba, find the captain while I treat Sho. He wishes to speak with you.” Aiba hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave Sho, but then he blushed and hurried from the room, still avoiding Sho’s gaze.

Nino turned to Sho and stripped his breeches off roughly, immediately beginning to clean his burn much more harshly then he had treated Aiba’s. Eyes still fixed on Sho’s burn, Nino hissed, “I saw you.”

“Pardon?” Sho yelped as his leg twitched in pain and was slapped back into place by Nino.

Nino gave him a hard stare. “Before the explosion. I saw you…embrace…Aiba.” He returned his gaze to the burn. “Luckily, I believe I am the only man who witnessed it.”

“Oh,” Sho responded weakly.

Nino began applying the salve. “I believe that you sincerely care for Aiba. But if I am wrong, and you pursue him with dishonorable intentions, then I will take out my scalpel and give you an even more sloping pair of shoulders." Nino glared. "Do you care for Aiba?" 

“Yes.” The words tumbled from Sho’s mouth. “I love him. I cannot remember how I lived before he came on board the Storm. I truly love him."

Nino nodded and began to bandage his leg. “Good. I am convinced that you care for him. I am also convinced,” he paused to make

Sho whimper with a flick to his leg, “that you cannot protect him. But I am still satisfied. Aiba is someone who should not be protected.”

Sho looked at him in astonishment, wondering whether to point out that protecting Aiba seemed to be precisely what Nino was attempting to do right now.

Nino continued. “Because Aiba is too kind, generous, and enthusiastic, you will wish to protect him. But this will only stifle Aiba’s exceptional nature. You must allow for an element of the natural and spontaneous,” Nino smiled ruefully.

Sho nodded. “Thank you for your counsel. In regards to Aiba, I value your opinion more highly than any other man’s.” Nino closed his case with a snap and turned to leave the room. 

“Wait!” Sho cried suddenly. “I have nothing to advise you on Satoshi’s account. I believe you understand him better than I do myself. Only know that you are very precious to him. I have heard him speak more words these past few weeks than in the past five years we spent together.”

Without turning around, Nino replied softly, “Thank you.”

 

*

 

Aiba found Ohno preoccupied in dividing the plunder from the day’s raid. While Ohno was slow in calculation, he was also the only man aboard universally considered incapable of theft (at least, from his own crew) or injustice. He often had to be reminded to claim his own portion of the prize.

Aiba smiled and rested an arm on Ohno’s shoulders as Ohno glanced back and forth between the piles of treasure and the list in his hand.

“Nino said you wished to speak with me?”

“Yes,” Ohno mumbled quietly. “He wished me to relay a message to you.” 

“A message from Nino?” Aiba exclaimed, thoroughly confused.

“Yes.” Ohno closed his eyes, as if struggling to remember. “I was meant to say something about whether you wished to pledge your future life to a chipmunk-like prat in two coats.” Ohno turned to Aiba with wide eyes. “Aiba, does this mean that you care for Sho?"

Aiba laughed nervously. “Yes,” he muttered, pressing his face into Ohno’s shoulder in embarrassment.

“I am very glad for Sho then.” Aiba looked up. “He was different before you arrived. He was a good captain while I was not, but he also had a fierce temper that frightened the crew. He would sometimes fall into a fit of anger or melancholy. And I never saw him smile as he has this month. He has been very lonely.” Aiba felt tears spring to his eyes as Ohno spoke.

“You are a good captain,” Aiba insisted. "And thank you for taking care of Sho."

Ohno turned to Aiba and bowed. “Please protect Sho well,” he requested, surprising and delighting Aiba with his dignified mien.

 

*

 

That night, the Storm was host to a raucous celebration. While many had suffered minor injuries, few had been seriously hurt, and the treasure was enormous. The crew feasted, drank, played at cards (for once, Nino did not join them), danced, drank, and sang. Even Jun, exhilarated by his success, joined in for a few bars, until Nino began begging someone to put a stop to “Miitan’s” (the ship’s cat’s) howling. Soon, sailors were excitedly laying down bets (in shillings) while Jun and Nino wrestled on the deck. Ohno stopped the fight when he began to fear that Nino’s stitches might come loose, and the two men promised the crew a re-match once Nino had fully recovered. 

Feeling pleasantly foggy from the rum, Aiba leaned on Sho’s shoulder and watched his friends’ antics with amusement. Sho felt his heart rate increase as Aiba took his hand. “Sho,” Aiba spoke softly. “Do you love Jun?”

“Pardon?” Sho spluttered. Aiba tensed at his side. “No! No…just…no.” Sho continued quietly, “You believe I would…embrace you…if I loved someone else?”

“I thought you might simply have been grateful that I saved your life.”

“No. I am afraid that gratitude was shamefully far from my mind at that moment.” Shaking a little, Sho ran his thumb over Aiba’s knuckles. He must have been a bit drunk himself, because without thinking he confessed, “I believed that you and Nino were...together.” He felt Aiba trembling at his side, and he looked down to discover Aiba helpless with laughter.

“Nino!” Aiba gasped. From a nearby bench, Ohno and Nino turned to observe the pair curiously. “Sho thought…he thought...”---another burst of laughter---"that the two of us were in love!”

Nino was instantly on the deck, almost howling with laughter. “My god, imagine it! Oh Aiba,” Nino assumed a suggestive, low tone that sounded suspiciously like an imitation of Sho, “your experiments are simply too fascinating! Please, tell me more of your discoveries!”

Aiba fell to one knee and clutched his heart. “Oh Nino,” he cried, “Your mole appears ever so fetching today! Do not deny me your tender embrace!” The two were off on a fresh peal of laughter when Sho turned red and bolted from the room. “Sho!” Aiba cried, suddenly serious as he scrambled to his feet and chased after him.

Nino leaned back against the bench, wiping the tears of amusement from his eyes. He felt Ohno’s hand rest on his shoulder, and he leaned against it for a few moments. Ohno’s fingers were long, his hands elegant and beautiful. Nino stared at his stubby fingers, then shivered in the cool night breeze. The revelry was coming to a close---sailors drifted off to sleep around them while one sang a plaintive song.

Nino stood, not looking at Ohno. “Come with me,” he ordered quietly. Ohno followed him without question, so absorbed in contemplation of the set of Nino’s shoulders that it took him several minutes to realize that Nino had led him to his own room. He stood at the door while Nino walked to Ohno’s bed and sat down. He looked at Ohno’s silhouette in the door. “Come in.”

Ohno wore a look of confusion. “You invite me into my own cabin?”

“Yes. Come. In.” Nino repeated.

Ohno had stripped off his clothing before he reached the bed.

 

*

 

“Forgive me for teasing you,” Aiba managed (a bit breathlessly) as he joined Sho at the prow of the ship, where Sho stood gazing out onto the dark water. 

Sho shook his head and took Aiba’s hand. “No, I am at fault. I reacted too strongly. But it pains me to see it, even when I know it to be a joke.”

Aiba shook his head wonderingly. “I cannot understand how someone so clever can also be so very foolish.”

“A subject for one of your experiments?” Sho offered as he squeezed Aiba’s had. The two men laughed. They stood in silence for a while, enjoying the sobering breeze and starry sky, connected by the warmth of their clasped hands.

“Sho?”

“Yes?”

“Do you intend to return to England someday? Is that your aim? Or rather,” Aiba fumbled to explain himself, “ever since I heard the narrative of your capture and career as a pirate, I have often found myself wondering whether you wished you were in England now---whether you still desire to be a professor or government minister, as you did five years ago?”

Sho turned towards Aiba but watched the sea. “A part of me still longs for that. But there is another part of me that I have been quite frightened of these last few years. I used to fly into a rage when I sensed it, but now I begin to think it may be valuable.”

“Which part is that?”

“The part of me that prefers this,” Sho gestured expansively, taking in the sea, sky, and ship, “Freedom. Wildness. The unexpected. Danger.” He paused. “A part of me that cannot imagine returning to my position as a member of the Sakurai dynasty.” He turned to face Aiba with a gentle smile, “But it would be a lie to say that I do not regret the time I have wasted these past five years. I wish it could be returned to me, so that I might put it to better use.”

Aiba stared into Sho’s warm eyes. “You have five seconds.”

“Pardon?”

“Do you not recall the evening we defeated time with your pocket-watch and hourglass? We snatched five seconds from Time’s pitiless grasp.”

Sho smiled slyly in return. “And may I use those seconds however I like?”

“Of course,” Aiba replied with a smile, “you won them.”

“But this will take longer than five seconds,” Sho breathed, pulling Aiba close against him, their quick breaths mingling until they both moved to close the distance between them.

 

*

 

“I would prefer if you did not call me captain. I have told you that you may call me Satoshi, or even Ohno. Would you not feel strange if I called you ‘sir’ in bed?”

“I would be ecstatic. In fact, I insist upon it.”

“…again, sir?”

“Again, Captain.”

 

*

 

“Blast! My hand slipped!”

“Pardon?”

“My hands---I tried to grip your shoulders, but they slipped off as if they could find no purchase there.”

“Masaki!”

“Wait, forgive me. I was only teasing. Your shoulders are very nice to grip.”

“…good. Because this will last much, much longer than five seconds. Or five minutes.”

“I would expect nothing less from a gentleman.”

 

*

 

Jun smiled to himself as he leaned against the side of the crow’s nest, staring up at the stars. He was accompanied by Kazu, who seemed to have taken a fancy to Jun after seeing him in flight and now slept near him.

After seeing Ohno and Nino slip away from the revelry, and Sho and Aiba on the deck (apparently trying to choke each other with their tongues), Jun could have little doubt as to how his friends were occupied.

To his surprise, he did not feel bitter. Instead, he felt almost relieved, as though the consummation of their romances was a good omen for the success of his own. And tonight, Jun was happy as he contemplated the success of their venture and his newly-won wealth---he could now repay Toma and even meet him on terms of equality. Tonight, Jun felt strangely light, yet his heart was full.

Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to do what he had been longing to since he first boarded the Storm---he let his memories of Toma wash over him unchecked.

Jun knew that much of his current success in commanding (or terrifying) men was due to his appearance. Jun wondered if he was a gypsy. But all he recalled was a gentle woman with features like his own---his mother? Then she disappeared. Then there was an older girl with dark hair, who called him “Jun” and held his hand while they wandered through the muddy streets. She brought him bread when he was hungry. And then one day she disappeared too.

After that, there were only the other orphaned boys who wandered the streets. There was starving, and cold, and picking through rags and garbage. Sometimes he’d go to watch the tall ships come into the harbor, trying in vain to imagine what it would be like to board a ship and travel someplace that wasn’t here. There was trying to get work, and then being tuned down after one look at his dark face. There was fighting, and sometimes errands for the streets’ local bosses. It was all strangely jumbled in his mind, his memories crystallizing only after his first encounter with Toma.

Jun had quit boxing after blacking out for several hours after a match. He was in the middle of one of his periods of starvation, leaning sullenly against a wall with his hands in his pockets. A light-haired young sailor, smiling and laughing as he watched a small, dark-haired girl spinning a hoop down the dirty street, arrested his glance. The sailor playfully chased after her, demonstrating how to better balance her hoop. After playing with her for a while, he stood near Jun, gazing at the sunset over the city’s soot-covered rooftops. Before he knew it, Jun had slid his hand down the man’s back and into his pocket. He stared at his own hand in horror.

The man started, and Jun expected a thrashing. But he only did a double take upon observing Jun’s gaunt face, and he exclaimed, “If you need a meal that badly, follow me.”

As if hypnotized, Jun followed the sailor to a café. And then to his lodgings, where he slept in Toma’s armchair. One night turned into two, then three, and then a week had passed, and Toma was staring at Jun earnestly from the other side of a coffee-shop table.

“I am engaged for a ship that sets sail tomorrow.” Toma fidgeted, playing with his coffee spoon. Jun watched Toma flip a cube of sugar placed on the end of his spoon into Jun's coffee cup. “But you might join me,” he finally concluded, looking into Jun’s eyes.  
Jun simply nodded, and Toma sighed, relaxing back into his chair and flashing Jun one of his brilliant, toothy smiles.

Toma had shown Jun the world; not only the sea and sky, but also the words that allowed Jun to name his experiences---and his feelings for Toma. Jun acquired each new word with painstaking care: Kindness. Generosity. Honor. Loyalty. Passion.

Jun felt himself entirely happy in Toma’s presence. Where he was dark, Toma was light. He laughed while Jun scowled, but he also entered into serious moods of his own; both men were as comfortable with silence as with conversation. Sometimes, Toma looked at him warmly or with sadness, but he never reached out a hand to touch him---except for that fateful day on the Maine, when Toma’s hand had covered Jun’s own on the ship’s wheel.

Jun opened his eyes to study the stars. Their consistency comforted him---no matter where he traveled, he could always make out the familiar constellations.


	7. Chapter 7

Aiba woke the next morning to Kazu gently nipping at his cheek. “Kazu, how did you find me?” he mumbled, raising a hand to defend his cheek. Satisfied that he was awake, Kazu settled himself on the small table beside Sho’s bed.

Aiba experienced a warm feeling of happiness that spread from the top of his head to the tips of his toes when he realized that he was lying in Sho’s arms; he could feel Sho’s warm breath on the back of his neck. Smiling, he reached out a hand to stroke Kazu’s breast, but as he stared into Kazu’s shrewd eyes, realization hit.

 _Nino._ Aiba bolted upright, sending a heavily-sleeping Sho sprawling awkwardly across the bed. Sho groaned and made vague grasping motions with his hands before falling back into his deep sleep. Aiba scrambled to find Sho’s vest on the floor where it had fallen (after being torn off by Aiba) last night, eventually locating the garment and pulling out Sho’s pocket-watch. Four o’clock in the morning. Still enough time to make it to bed before Nino woke and realized that Aiba had not slept in their cabin that night.

It wasn’t as if Nino was his mother…yet Nino had also made his displeasure with Sho clear to Aiba. Aiba could not bear Nino’s censure (or his endless teasing) if he realized how Aiba had spent the night. Panicking, Aiba dressed hastily, but his will to leave diminished when he turned to gaze at Sho’s face. Aiba sat on the bed and ran a hand through Sho’s soft brown hair, staring at his lips. Was it too inconsiderate to leave him?

Kazu squawked loudly. Sighing, Aiba tried to think of something to leave behind that would let Sho know that he cared for him. Taking up his satchel, he withdrew his most valuable possession---his journal---and tucked it into the bed beside Sho. 

 

*

 

Nino woke when the first rays of morning sunlight fell across his eyes. He groaned when he realized that Ohno was sleeping almost entirely on top of him, one leg between his own and a heavy arm thrown across his chest. He was also breathing into Nino’s ear. Nino wondered how he had slept so well with so much dead weight pressing on him, and he was even more surprised to discover his own arms wrapped tightly about his captain’s waist. Blinking in annoyance at the morning sunshine, Nino froze as realization hit. 

_Aiba._ If Aiba realized that Nino had not slept in their cabin last night, he would immediately guess where Nino _had_ slept. And then every man on board would know as well. Aiba would swear on his honor as a gentleman never to reveal the secret. But somehow, word would spread. Aiba would tell Kazu. Who would tell Miitan. Who would tell everyone.

Growling in exasperation, Nino pushed Ohno off of him, sitting up on the bed and reaching for his clothes. He was preparing to stand and pull on his pants when he felt a strong hand at his wrist. “Gahh!”

“Why are you dressing?” Ohno murmured sleepily, looking up at Nino from the bed and tugging at his wrist as if to pull him back down.

“I…I must return to the cabin before Aiba guesses that we spent the night together.”

Ohno relaxed his hold but looked at him with disappointment, making Nino feel as though he were the lowest creature alive. “I will meet you again in a few hours,” Nino muttered, avoiding Ohno’s gaze as he fastened his pantaloons and hurried from the room.

 

*

 

Aiba pressed himself against a door, cautiously peering around the frame to make sure his way was clear. Though he hadn’t seen anyone moving about in this part of the ship, he had heard footsteps starting and stopping as he approached the cabin, rendering him unduly anxious.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _Three steps to the door. Open the door silently. Slip casually into bed. Suavely. Like the Scarlet Pimpernel._

Aiba rapidly but silently approached the door, only to shriek when Nino suddenly turned the corner and ran up against his chest.

“Nino!”

“Aiba!”

“Ha, ha…I was just…I woke early to examine my ‘leave it be’ experiment. I am…returning…to sleep now.”

Nino nodded. “Ah, yes…I could not sleep, so I took a stroll. Exhausted myself.”

The two men launched themselves into the room, each so intent on making their side of the bed look slept in that neither noticed the bed’s original pristine condition. The two lay down and stared at the ceiling. They pretended to sleep, each man thinking miserably of the comfortable embrace they had left behind.

After about fifteen minutes of this torture, Nino sat up. “I cannot sleep after all. I will wake the captain.”

Aiba sprang up. “I will consult with Jun on when he expects to reach Rio,” he declared eagerly.

As they left the room, both men congratulated themselves on the masterful manner in which they had concealed their late night escapades.

 

*

 

Sho woke slowly, his brow furrowing in confusion. He didn’t recall Aiba’s skin feeling so leathery. Or Aiba being quite so square and pointy. He opened his eyes and realized that his arms were wrapped around Aiba’s journal. And that Kazu was staring at him intently from the table beside his bed.

Sho experienced a moment of almost choking disappointment at the thought that last night had been nothing more than his own dream. But no, Aiba must have truly been here---how else could Sho possess his journal? Sho calmed his racing heart with the thought that Aiba had entrusted him with his most precious belonging---surely Aiba intended the journal as a pledge of his sincerity?

Sho rose and dressed, reassured but slightly annoyed. When he thought of last night, his heart thumped and a giddy happiness overtook him, making it impossible not to smile. But his morning…it was certainly unfair for everyone to be questioning his motives towards Masaki, as though he were some sort of heartless rake, Sho fumed. In fact, he was the one who had been loved and left…

Sho froze. _Loved and left._ Kazu fluttered over to land softly on his shoulder. Sho turned his face to meet Kazu’s questioning gaze, whispering, as though he could not believe the words himself, “He will leave me.”

 

*

 

Aiba joined Jun at the ship’s wheel. Jun looked pale and drawn---Aiba suspected him of not sleeping again---yet his eyes were alight with a strange excitement, and he gripped the wheel tensely.

After the two men exchanged greetings (Aiba wondered why Jun smirked upon noticing him), Aiba inquired how near they were to Rio.

“The wind was strangely strong last night. We are far in advance of our schedule---I think we are not more than a day’s journey. I only have to locate an obscure enough harbor in which to anchor the ship.”

Aiba could hear the restless excitement threading through Jun’s words. But he felt as though someone had pressed a heavy weight upon his chest. One day. In all the excitement of the raid, and kissing Sho, and…other things…with Sho, Aiba had not thought of what would happen when they reached Rio. To be truthful, he had not allowed himself to think of it. He thought of the journal he had so recently left under Sho’s protection. Then he studied Jun’s determined profile, his hope to meet Toma in Rio evident. Should he abandon the adventure he had dreamed of for so long?

 

*

 

With all the bustle aboard ship---Nino had patients to attend to, Ohno was distributing the prizes, and Sho was organizing the crew for their arrival in Rio (Aiba played with Kazu on the deck, feeling guilty for neglecting him of late)---the four men did not meet until their usual training session. Jun declined to join them, barely sparing them a glance as he answered that he would prefer to stay at the wheel.

Three of the four were somewhat on edge. Ohno was, as usual, imperturbable; he only looked more relaxed and happy than usual. Sho was relieved when Aiba greeted him with a beaming smile, but when Sho moved to embrace him he moved away, looking back anxiously at Nino. Sho sulked, feeling himself very hardly used.

The training session went forward in a similar fashion, with Nino stepping on (a very perplexed) Ohno’s toes and diving to cover his mouth every time the captain started to mention something about Nino “last night.” And when Ohno started teasingly running a hand up Nino’s thigh during practice, Nino actually stomped his foot in frustration and broke away from Ohno’s grasp. “I will fence with Aiba today,” he declared, grabbing Aiba’s arm to pull him away from his match with Sho.

Ohno and Sho watched the match from the sidelines. Sho turned to Ohno with an expression of utter heartbreak. Ohno shrugged and offered Sho a look of commiseration. Men, the two reflected sadly.

 

*

 

Sho finally managed to pull Aiba away from practice and to a retired corner of the ship. As Sho led him to a small doorway that also possessed a view of the sea, Aiba began to fear that Sho would scold him. “Forgive me,” he burst out. “I should not have left you this morning,” he apologized, flushing.

But Sho only smiled. “It is alright, Masaki.” Aiba shivered with pleasure to hear Sho call him by his first name. “I am not angry. I only wanted to spend some time with you alone.”

Aiba smiled in return. “Oh. Good.”

The two grinned at each other goofily as they interlaced their fingers. Aiba leaned against Sho’s shoulder as they turned to look out at the sea. _It is as if we are some new-born idiot couple,_ Sho reflected as he failed to suppress the grin spreading across his face.

But then his heart dropped at the thought that their relationship might be over almost as soon as it had begun. To Sho’s displeasure, the wind and sea propelled the Storm forward relentlessly.

Sho wished to be suave---to enjoy his time with Aiba without troubling talk of the future and commitment. Suave, like the Scarlet Pimpernel. But as Sho was realizing with greater clarity each day, he was simply not a suave man.

“Masaki,” he started, then paused to cough. When had his throat become so dry? And there was a strange pressure behind his eyes. He kept his gaze fixed on the sea. “I must tell you.” He paused again. “I cannot---I will not---ask you to stay with me on board the Storm. You know that when we reach Rio, you are free to depart, with my blessing. I do not think I have the right to ask you to abandon your work for this kind of life.”

Aiba was gripping his hand hard enough to cut off his circulation. Sho turned to find a white and shaking Aiba. Sho’s heart leapt at the thought that perhaps---just perhaps---Aiba was about to declare that he loved piracy better than any other profession in the world, and that his new dream was to stay by Sho’s side forever. The devil take noble self-sacrifice---how could Sho return to the melancholy life he had led before Masaki?

Instead, Aiba replied, his voice shaking, “Sho, because you will not make an unreasonable request of me, I must make a very unreasonable request of you.” Aiba looked down, seeming to stop breathing for a moment before he finally spoke, raising his face to look directly at Sho. “Join my venture. Leave the ship, and explore the Amazon with me.”

As he stared into Aiba’s anxious eyes, Sho considered what little he knew of the Amazon. Heat. Enormous insects. Dangerous tribes. Ferocious animals. Then, he thought about Ohno and Nino fighting side by side aboard the Poole; it seemed that Satoshi already possessed a new first mate. Finally, he thought about an enthusiastic Aiba at his side, twenty-fours a day, seven days a week. And the endless teasing about his sloping shoulders that would come with it.

Sho didn’t have to think again. “Yes. I will join you.”

 

*

 

Later that night, Aiba wandered dreamily into the cabin he shared with Nino, humming happily to himself.

Nino, in contrast, huffed at his entrance. He had obviously been tossing about sleeplessly for some time, his face flushed and dark hair mussed. Aiba was surprised by his appearance, raising a hand to his forehead to feel if he had a fever. “Nino, are you unwell?” he asked with concern.

“I. Am. Fine.” Nino gritted out, looking ready to throttle someone.

Skeptical but unwilling to challenge Nino when he was in such a foul mood, Aiba shrugged and laid down beside him to sleep.

However, the moment he closed his eyes, his mind was filled with vivid images of himself and Sho, in a series of what could only be described as very compromising positions. His eyes snapped open, and he sighed softly---without Sho, was he condemned to a sleepless night?

Just as finished his sigh, Nino suddenly sat upright and grabbed the sides of Aiba’s face, turning Aiba to face him. “Aiba,” he commanded sternly. “Last night I stayed with Captain. I will be doing so again tonight. If you tell a soul of this, I will roast Kazu for breakfast.”

Aiba’s jaw dropped. He scrambled off the bed. “But I stayed with Sho last night!” he exclaimed, waving a finger wildly at Nino as though accusing him.

The two friends gaped at each other in astonishment. Then, at the same moment, both men ran for the door, each struggling to be the first out of the room.

 

*

 

“It took you long enough,” Ohno observed quietly as Nino burst into his cabin and dove, blushing, under the covers.

 

*

 

That night, Jun piloted the Storm to a hidden cove not far from the city. He oversaw the lowering of the anchor. Then, exhausted, he dropped to the deck and slept. Kazu settled beside him, attentively guarding his peaceful form.

 

*

 

Jun woke to chaos on deck. Men were running about in panic, crying out to each other as they hastily sought or prepared weapons.

Jun rolled to his feet at the same time that Ohno, Sho, Aiba, and Nino burst onto the deck. With a shout of “Attention!” that overwhelmed the din, Sho began calling the crew to order while Ohno, Aiba, and Nino rushed to the ship’s prow. All had clearly dressed in haste, and Jun noted dimly that Sho was wearing his shirt inside out. Kazu flew quickly towards Aiba. Jun followed.

Ohno caught Jun’s look of horror as he surveyed the water. A fleet of small boats was approaching the Storm. The boats were filled with red-coated British officers wielding pistols and swords, the fleet obviously led by a tall, handsome man who stood in the ship at the forefront, urging his men to row faster.

Jun swallowed. “The night watch?” he demanded tersely.

“He fell asleep. Thought it of no consequence since we had anchored,” Ohno replied.

“Shall we bribe them?”

Ohno shook his head. “No. Mizushima Hiro is an exceedingly honorable officer. Sho and I have tangled with Mizushima before,”

Ohno continued coolly. “He jailed us briefly in Madeira. It seems that he has since been promoted to a better office.”

Jun gazed in awe at Ohno’s apparent nonchalance. “Then we resist?”

Ohno’s eyes swept the boats, quickly calculating the number of armed men. He sighed. “I think it useless. But probably we will resist.” He turned to Jun and grabbed his shoulders. Jun stared back at Ohno in shock, never having seen such fire in the captain’s sleepy eyes before. “Jun,” he spoke in a surprisingly assured tone of command. “There is a small boat at the ship’s stern. Lower it, and try to escape with Nino and Aiba before they reach us. Go!”

Jun ignored Aiba’s and Nino’s cries of protest, deciding that Ohno could be responsible for manhandling the pair into the boat once Jun had prepared it. Jun took off at a run towards the ship’s aft, slowing when he caught a glimpse of a small craft approaching the ship’s back. Another surprise attack from Mizushima? As the craft neared, the figure rowing the small boat stood up and waved, swinging his arms and calling out his name.

Jun’s knees buckled. He’d no idea that knees actually could buckle. He’d read the expression in novels but never imagined it really occurring. But here he was, on his knees on the deck of the Storm as he recognized the boat’s rower as Toma, who was calling out “Jun!” as he swung his arms wildly above his head.

Jun grabbed the ship’s rail and pulled himself to his feet, stumbling forward as he tried to shout “Sir!” in return, but he found that he had lost his voice. Finally, he reached the rail at the back of the ship, staring down in wonder at the figure of Toma below him, who was grinning and shouting his name crazily while tears streamed down his face. Something wet hit Jun’s shirt, and he touched his face to discover that he was crying as well.

Seeming to recover from his initial burst of excitement, Toma extended his hand as if to grasp Jun’s own (though they were nowhere near close enough) and began calling out anxiously, “Lower yourself to the boat! Hurry, before you are overtaken and arrested for piracy!” Toma stretched his hand even higher, as if the action could compel Jun into the boat. Jun stepped onto the ship’s rail, ready to throw himself overboard and into Toma’s arms, but he hesitated as he recalled Aiba and Nino.

Who suddenly appeared, dragged along by Sho and Ohno. With wide eyes, Toma took in the four new figures at Jun’s side, quickly withdrawing a pistol from his jacket and aiming for Sho’s heart. “Do not. Prevent him,” he snarled.

Sho squeaked, and Jun finally found his voice, crying out, “Sir! No! He will not prevent me, there is no need!” Toma observed Jun’s earnest expression and warily lowered his pistol. “Then come down,” he replied.

Sho threw himself against the railing. “Do you have room for two more men?” he begged.

“Just,” Toma replied, clearly surprised by Sho’s request but more than willing to rescue Nino and Aiba as well. “Send them with Jun!”

Sho and Ohno nodded while Aiba and Nino shouted, “No!”

“I will not leave Captain!” “I cannot leave Sho!”

“Then you two leave together!” cried Ohno and Nino, followed closely by Sho and Aiba.

Toma looked ready to pull out his pistol again, clearly frustrated by the farce unfolding above him. “If Jun is not in this boat in five seconds,” he growled, “I am coming up for him and leaving _all_ of you to rot in the bailey.”

Then Ohno spoke, in a tone of such quiet, calm decisiveness that the four men instantly felt the truth of his statement. “I am the Storm’s captain. I will never leave her crew. Even if the ship were sinking, I would still remain on board.”

The four stood frozen for a moment, then Nino pronounced, “Right. That is decided, then. Captain and I remain on board while Aiba and Sho join Toma.” Nino tried to speak firmly, but the tremble in his voice betrayed him. 

Sho looked between Satoshi and Nino, recognizing that neither man would give an inch. He nodded, “Come, Masaki.”

Aiba launched himself at Nino. “How can I leave the brother in arms I swore to protect with my life?” he cried, tears gushing from his eyes. “We pledged to share the same fate. Do you still not believe me a man of honor?” Aiba whispered fiercely.

Nino broke the embrace to look Aiba in the eyes. “Aiba, I have learned that sometimes the more courageous act is to surrender. I trust that I will see you again, my dearest friend and brother in arms.” Nino offered Aiba a gentle smile.

Aiba nodded, stifling a sob, while Sho seized Ohno’s hand and promised, “I will come for you at the jail tonight, Satoshi. Surrender the ship but protect the crew.” Ohno nodded briefly, then turned and ran to join the crew on deck, Nino following at his heels. Sho grabbed Aiba’s hand and pulled him towards the boat, where Toma had already captured Jun in a crushing embrace.

 

*

 

Toma had hardly let go of Jun’s hand since they had reached shore. He held it in his own while the four hid in the forest and watched from a distance as Ohno surrendered the ship and the whole crew was taken away in chains (Aiba had cried quietly into Sho’s sloping shoulder during the scene); Toma held Jun’s hand tightly as he led the men through the city’s winding back alleys to the small room he was using as a hideout; and now, he held Jun’s hand while the four sat around the low table in the otherwise bare room. Toma interlaced their fingers tightly, as though convinced that Jun might attempt to escape at any moment.

Over a brief supper, Toma had revealed how he had come to hear of Mizushima’s plan to capture the Storm. Apparently, word had reached Rio of the extraordinary pirate attack on a slave ship led by the Fisher King, the Scarlet Sailor, and a man known as the Gypsy, and Mizushima had seen a chance to avenge himself on the men who had eluded his grasp once before. Convinced by the location of the attack that the men could only be headed for Rio, Mizushima had his troops stake out the retired harbors and inlets surrounding the city and gave them orders to alert him if a ship arrived. 

Mizushima had detailed these plans to his close friend, Captain Oguri Shun of the SS Maine. Recognizing the “gypsy” as Jun, Shun had immediately informed Toma that Jun might be seized by Mizushima and tried for piracy. Toma had spent the last two days trailing Mizushima, prepared to follow him as soon as he received word of a ship. Both Mizushima’s and Toma’s plans had been a gamble, but today they had paid off.

Now, Sho and Aiba were preparing to rescue Ohno and Nino. Toma reached to hold Jun’s hand in both his own and glared at Sho from across the table. While Toma had embraced Aiba and treated him gently, urging him to eat more and offering him a new set of clothes (Aiba had left the Storm with nothing but the clothes he woke in and a leather satchel containing his journal), Toma continued to glower at Sho despite Jun’s protests; he slapped Sho’s hands away from the dishes at supper and threw a jacket at his head when Sho humbly requested something to wear over his nightshirt. 

Toma relented slightly, though, and offered Sho a pistol and sword after Aiba begged Toma to equip them for their venture. “Though, if I remember rightly, you may do more damage to yourself than to your enemy with these weapons,” Toma could not help adding.

At these words, Aiba looked at Sho anxiously. “You and Ohno have escaped from jail before?”

“Many times,” Sho replied, apparently still uneasy. “But never one in such a large and well-patrolled city. We can but try. I would tell you to remain here, but I doubt you would listen,” Sho smiled, trying to reassure Aiba. Toma felt himself soften a bit towards the Scarlet Sailor.

Aiba nodded and glanced at Jun before quickly looking away again, flushing. The air was tense with unspoken questions; it was clear that Sho and Aiba wondered if Jun would join them in their attempt to rescue their comrades, but it was equally clear that Toma would fly into a rage at the mere suggestion that Jun depart on such a dangerous venture. Sho wasn’t sure that he was prepared to fight a duel with a sword borrowed from his opponent.

“At the very least, we will survey the prison tonight and try to determine where they are held,” Sho filled the silence awkwardly. Aiba nodded, and the two stood, ready to make their way through the labyrinthine alleyways with a map prepared by Toma. Both men avoided looking at Jun as they said farewell, and Jun stared at the floor, unable to speak or meet their eyes.

After their departure, Toma sighed and turned to Jun, taking his chin in his hand and studying his face with concern. Jun was pale, and thin, and so silent that it frightened Toma. It was almost as if they had returned to their very first days together, when Jun could barely speak or look at Toma. Reluctantly, Toma released Jun’s hand and moved to unfold two bedrolls. He placed them side-by-side, then took Jun’s hand and led him to a mat, urging him to lie down. “Please Jun, sleep. I fear you are unwell.” Jun observed that Toma also appeared worn by the day’s events, his handsome face lined with worry, so Jun nodded and allowed Toma to take his hand as they lay down together. Somehow, Jun fell asleep to the rhythm of Toma’s quiet breathing.

Only to wake in a cold sweat an hour later. Jun sat up, his heart racing with shame and panic. Was it not his fault that the Storm had gained such notoriety so close to Rio? And had he not anchored the ship too hastily, too eager to reach the city that might hold Toma? And how in god’s name could he have left Sho and Aiba to rescue Nino and Ohno by themselves? The two were probably lost in Rio’s back alleys. And if they did reach the jail, Aiba would try to blow it up with a smoke bomb. And Sho! Sho would probably end up giving his pistol to Mizushima and accidentally locking himself in a cell, joining Ohno and Nino behind bars!

Heart pounding, Jun disentangled his hand from Toma’s and quietly crept to where Toma hid his pistol beneath the table, carefully removing it. He touched the dagger at his side for reassurance. Tearing his eyes away from the troubled expression on Toma’s sleeping face (the first time Jun had seen it), he shrugged into his jacket and prepared to slip out of the room.

Only to be stopped by a pair of strong arms surrounding him and pulling him back into Toma’s chest. Jun could feel Toma’s breath on his shoulder. “Sir,” Jun gasped in surprise.

“Jun.” Toma spoke calmly but with an undercurrent of sadness. “I am tired of being noble. And I do not wish for you to play the part of the noble idiot either. I spent these months thinking that you might be in pain or lost to me forever. So if you wish to leave, I will not stop you---only let me join you.” He sighed shakily. “And I am not your superior anymore, Jun.”

Jun turned in Toma’s grasp. He licked his lips, then whispered, “Toma,” trying out on his lips the name he had so often spoken in his mind. He stared into Toma’s starry brown eyes. The two men kissed until they were breathless.

Jun felt a wave of happiness thaw his frozen spirit. Jun squeezed their clasped hands and smiled. Toma’s face lit up in response, relieved to finally see Jun’s smile. “Then come with me, Toma,” Jun grinned. “I have to engineer the most daring jailbreak this continent has ever seen.”

Toma’s face broke into the toothy smile that Jun had spent the last two months dreaming about. “Then what are we waiting for?” he smirked.


	8. Chapter 8

Aiba and Sho stood pressed to the wall at the opening of an alleyway, craning their necks to take cautious glances at the imposing white-washed prison near the edge of one Rio’s many sprawling neighborhoods. The night air was hot, and scents of tropical flowers and grilling meat, along with the smells of poverty---crowded bodies, garbage---hung in the air. A fresh breeze brought the salty scent of the ocean into the claustrophobic slums. Several officers patrolled the prison (which was lit up from within by candles and lamps) while two more guarded the entrance.

Sho suppressed a sign of despair. Yes, he and Satoshi had conducted their share of prison breaks. However, in all those instances, Sho had the benefit of Ohno’s superb fighting and unflappable calm. He glanced at Aiba’s shadowed face beside him. He could feel the nervous energy radiating from Aiba as he raised a hand to wipe his sweaty forehead. Aiba was a very capable fighter, but he was also excitable. And even if it had been Satoshi by his side, the odds would still be heavily against them. Sho tried to formulate a clever plan, wishing that he had made a more thorough study of military history while at Oxford.

For his part, Aiba was considering tying Sho to nearby post and leaving him there. The first mate certainly meant well, but in Aiba’s experience, Sho often caused more trouble than he was worth. And his current expression of bemused thought, though adorable (he was biting his lower lip again), hardly inspired confidence.

Aiba was considering pinning Sho to the wall and tying his hands together when he suddenly felt someone grab his shoulder and cover his mouth. Aiba immediately started to resist, but stopped when he noticed a very familiar silver ring on the hand covering his mouth. Feeling Aiba still, Jun released him, and Aiba turned to capture Jun in an enthusiastic embrace. Grinning from ear to ear, Aiba whispered, “Do not tell Sho, but it was hopeless without you, Jun.”

Jun looked down, obviously trying to hide his pleasure at Aiba’s words with a scowl, and Aiba turned to find Sho in a wide-eyed state of shock, his hands pinned to his back by one of Toma’s own and his mouth covered.  
“I believe you may release him now,” Jun sighed, rolling his eyes as Toma unnecessarily pinned Sho (face first) against the wall.

“If you wish,” Toma grinned, with an extremely charming and (Aiba thought) rather terrifying smile. Sho recovered his dignity enough to very seriously thank Jun and Toma; Jun smiled softly while Toma nodded curtly.

“Toma has a plan,” Jun began, quickly getting to the heart of the matter.

Toma nodded, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “I recognize these soldiers as part of Mizushima’s company. I think he remains in the jail with a guard tonight, in case of another escape. While we may fight our way into the jail, we would still have to confront Mizushima and his men. And he is not an officer to be trifled with.” He lowered his voice. “So I propose that we put Mizushima out of commission entirely. And I know just the man to do so,” he finishing, his eyes starting to kindle with mischief.

 

*

 

As he had expected, Toma found Shun in his usual tavern. After much excited talking and embracing amongst the men (Shun of course recognized them in spite of their attempts at disguise---Sho wore an eye patch and kerchief across his mouth, while Jun had tied his hair back and donned a large pair of spectacles), Toma seized Shun by the shoulders and carefully examined his eyes. Slowly, he began nodding. Yes, this could work. Shun had just begun drinking and was only mildly flushed, not yet in his usual Friday night state of falling down in the road and crawling to sleep on Toma’s doorstep.

Toma quickly explained their difficulties, finishing with a pleading look in his eyes, “And only you can divert Mizushima while we free the men.”

“But how?” Shun demanded, nonplussed.

“Mizushima has been madly infatuated with you for years. Seduce him, if it comes to that.”

“What!?” Shun cried, turning bright red. “Hiro does not…I would not…how _could_ I even…”

Toma laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “Shun,” he asked seriously, “are you truly asking me for advice on how to make use of your masculine wiles? I thought you were a man of the world.”

“No, I…of course I do not need… _what_ masculine wiles?”

Aiba approached Shun, opening his eyes as wide as he could. “Please, captain,” he begged pathetically. “You are our only hope.”

Toma sent Jun a look, and Jun quickly nudged Sho. The two men attempted their best impressions of Aiba’s pleading face.

Shun stared helplessly at the four pairs of misty eyes. With a sigh of defeat, he buried his head in his hands. “Take me to Hiro. And this is the last favor I perform for you, Toma. I have repaid you with interest,” he finished sharply.

“I would not dream of asking for another,” Toma smiled, reaching out to tug Shun off the bar stool and out the door.

 

*

 

“The door is locked,” Jun confirmed.

“But none of the guards carry the key!” Aiba wailed. The five men had easily incapacitated the guards surrounding the prison, with Jun knocking them all out rather efficiently with the handle of his sword. Now they were faced with the dilemma of actually entering the prison.

“How is that possible?” wondered Sho.

Shun nodded. “I know Hiro well. This is like his cleverness. Probably he is inside and carries the keys tonight, so that the guards must call to him before anyone enters the jail.”

“Shall we try a window?” Jun suggested, looking doubtfully at the prison’s iron bars.

Toma stepped forward and began rummaging through his pockets. “I do not think that will be necessary.” He produced a lady’s hairpin. “Everything in the colonies is what was used in England ten years ago. I remember these locks well,” he announced, bending to examine the lock and then inserting the hairpin, closing one eye as he worked.

Jun gaped. “You…can pick locks?” he asked, unable to conceal his surprise. Keeping his attention fixed on the lock before him, Toma nodded, blushing faintly.

“Yes. I am afraid there are some things you do not know about me, Jun.” He focused more intently on the action of the hairpin, obviously embarrassed. “I was ashamed to tell you. Before I became a sailor, I was a very accomplished pickpocket. And the best lock-picker in all of East London.”

Jun stared at him, amazed. “Why did you not tell me?”

Toma blushed even more. “I thought you might be disappointed to learn that I had been a thief.”

Jun shook his head. “No.” He paused, trying to think of a way to convey his understanding to Toma. “It has come in handy now, has it not?”

The lock clicked open. The five men let out a communal sigh of relief.

Toma smiled gratefully at Jun before continuing. “Right. We give Shun a fifteen minute start to find and distract Hiro. Then we take out the guards and release the crew. Above all, we must be silent, and Shun must prevent Hiro from alerting his officers.”

Shun nodded but hung back, looking inclined to bolt. Sho and Aiba seized his arms and pushed him forward while Toma whispered, “Remember Shun, distract Mizushima at _any_ cost.” Shun glared at Toma but slowly began making his way towards Hiro’s office.

The rest remained nervously in the prison’s entranceway. Whey they watched the door, Sho and Aiba clasped hands and began speaking to each other in low voices, carrying on a conversation that Jun was fairly sure would make him lose his supper if he overheard it. The two were unbearably sweet towards each other. Suddenly, Jun wondered if he and Toma might appear that way to others, too.

Still keeping a careful watch on the hallway, Jun experimentally reached for Toma’s hand, somehow relieved when Toma immediately took it in his own after only the lightest of touches. “Toma,” he began, both men trying to suppress a smile at his use of the first name. “Why is Captain Oguri indebted to you?”

“I once saved his life in a tavern brawl. It was a dispute over the billing.”

“The bill?”

Toma shook his head, grinning. “No, the billing for a play. Shun used to be quite the actor, and he was furious when Matsuyama Kenichi’s name was listed above his own in the poster for their production of ‘As You Like It.’ I was meant to be training them in stage fighting, but the company’s discussions usually ended in genuine fighting.”

Jun smirked. “You are right. There is much I do not know about you.” Seeing Toma’s nervous expression, Jun squeezed his hand reassuringly. “But I look forward to finding out,” he smiled.

 

*

 

Ohno and Nino lay in a cell, Ohno seated against the wall and Nino against Ohno’s chest, the captain’s arms circled about his waist while he rested his head on Ohno’s shoulder. Because they were captain and first mate, Mizushima (always unfailingly polite) had granted them their own private cell and even a lamp of their own, which was swinging from the ceiling high above them. Nino had already tried standing on Ohno’s shoulders to reach the lamp (perhaps they could start a fire and create a panic in the jail) but to no avail. Finally, they had settled down, prepared to wait for a rescue.

“Do you truly believe they will arrive to free us?” Nino asked softly.

“I almost wish they would not, but yes,” Ohno replied. Nino nodded in understanding---he did not like the thought of Sho and Aiba taking on the heavily-guarded jail either.

“Idiots,” he observed, but with little of his usual fire. He began stirring restlessly in Ohno’s arms. Thinking of Aiba made him unbearably nervous.

“We will play a game I enjoyed as a child,” he finally declared. “It is called magical banana, and it is a word association game. I will start.” Nino began chanting softly, “If you say banana, I say melon.”

“…”

“It is your turn, Captain. Say a word you associate with melon.”

“I cannot think of anything other than melons.”

Nino groaned, wondering how he could have been foolish enough to suggest a verbal game to this mute simpleton. But he attempted to be patient. “Fine. Try again. I will say something simpler. If you say banana, I say yellow.”

“If you say yellow, I say Nino.”

“Do not simply say whatever you see before you,” Nino hissed. “Think of something you associate with yellow.” 

“But I do associate Nino with yellow,” Ohno defended himself.

“Because I am like a ray of sunshine in your otherwise dreary and meaningless life?”  
Ohno seemed to ponder this. “No…more like you usually look slightly ill? Sort of jaundiced?”

Nino elbowed Ohno in the chest and tried to stand, but Ohno tightened his hold and Nino allowed himself to be restrained, truthfully preferring to remain near his captain. “If I could find anyone better, I would leave, believe me,” Nino snapped. “But no one but a village idiot like you would accept someone with a disfigured face,” he muttered.

“I am glad, then. I could not bear to see you with anyone else,” Ohno confessed softly at his ear. Nino blinked---as usual, the captain rendered him speechless.

The two rested together in silence. Then Ohno inquired, “Who taught you that game when you were a child?”

“My sister.” Nino’s face clouded over. “What do you think has become of our treasure?” he asked. Ohno knew that Nino was thinking of the fortune he had planned to present to his mother and sister.

“The Storm will be in port with other captured ships. Usually I would assume that the officers had already raided her of her valuables, but Mizushima is strict---I think he may even be planning to return it to the company we took it from. I would not be surprised if it is still on board.” Nino nodded thoughtfully in response.

Watching Nino’s eyes, which had taken on a far away look, Ohno asked, “Nino, will you stay with me? I will stay with you always, if you wish it,” he offered.

Nino blushed furiously, twisting his head to glare at Ohno. “You have a terrible habit of asking the strangest questions. And putting matters too bluntly,” he grumbled. But at the sight of Ohno’s direct gaze, he sighed and nodded. “It is like what you said earlier---now that you are captain, you cannot leave the ship, even if it were sinking.” Nino looked attentively at the opposite wall. “That is how I feel about you.”

Nino could feel Ohno’s wide smile against the top of his head. “So you think I am like a sinking ship?”

“Yes,” Nino smirked.

“But what if there were sharks in the water?” Ohno replied, looking genuinely curious.

“What!?”

But Ohno’s question was never answered, for at that moment the two caught sight of Sho, Aiba, Jun and Toma in the midst of heated combat with their guard. The two men exchanged a look and smiled before springing to their feet.

 

*

 

Mizushima felt that he should have been happier. After all, had he not accomplished a most amazing coup today, a truly stunning blow to maritime piracy? But still, he paced his office, dissatisfied. Something was not quite right. He recognized the Fisher King, of course, but had never heard of the slight, scarred man who stepped forward as first mate. Ohno had claimed that the Scarlet Sailor had died of a fever and been buried at sea, but the timeline appeared suspicious to Mizushima. And the man who claimed to be the ship’s “Gypsy”---a sailor called Kame---did not quite fit the description. And he could not produce the jeweled purple dagger the officer had heard so much of.

Most troubling was the beastly green bird that had haunted him ever since the ship’s capture. In vain had Mizushima closed doors and windows against it---it was simply determined to occupy his office. Its smug look of satisfaction unsettled Mizushima. Even its tiny yellow kerchief seemed to be mocking him. With a sigh in the bird’s general direction, Mizushima forced himself to stop pacing and sit at his desk to begin working properly. At the very least, he would make certain that there was no repeat of the Madeira incident tonight---his company of officers (currently playing cards next door) had agree to hold a night-watch with him and spring into action at the first signal from Mizushima. Hearing a roar of laughter from next door, Mizushima frowned---he wished the officers would have agree to patrol the jail, but they had been so irate at his refusal to let them seize the ship’s treasures that they had insisted on cards. And they were probably drinking.

Mizushima began reading through some documents when he thought he could hear the faints sounds of a scuffle occurring outdoors. He stood and moved to look through the window, but he froze in his tracks when Kazu squawked loudly, “Hiro!”

He turned to the bird, completely astonished and clutching at his heart in shock. How had this ungodly beast learnt his name so quickly? The blasted thing was now peering at him almost threateningly. Before he could recover from the shock, he nearly jumped out of his skin again when Shun (without knocking) opened the door and appeared in his office.

Seeing Hiro looking bewildered and clutching at his chest, Shun rushed towards him. “Hiro! Are you unwell?”

“No…no,” he managed. “I was only surprised by the odd bird that has followed me since this afternoon. The creature actually spoke my name!”

“Oh!” Shun exclaimed, looking at the parrot with evident confusion.

Mizushima had recovered himself enough to inquire why Shun had come to visit him, in his befuddlement forgetting to ask Shun how he had entered the jail. Though he had claimed to be well, he was already growing most uncomfortably hot in the other man’s presence, and his heart was starting to beat even faster.

Shun looked at Hiro nervously. Truly, he respected and liked the man very much---he had always admired his strict integrity and gentle demeanor, which only served to highlight his quiet strength. In fact, Shun had to admit that he might have been the tiniest bit thrilled---if also suspicious---when Toma had claimed that Hiro was infatuated with him. Now, seeing Hiro looking unusually flushed and breathless, Shun wondered (not for the first time) why---in spite of his upright demeanor---Hiro wore his black hair so long, in a manner unusual for an officer. Now the hair was tied back, but Shun began to wonder what would happen if Hiro truly let his hair down. What _would_ it be like to seduce him?

Shun shook his head and attempted to clear his mind of such nonsense. Surely there were other ways of distracting him. Shun simply replied that an officer had told him of Hiro’s watch, and he had thought of stopping in for a drink and conversation. Such impromptu meetings were not unusual between the two friends.

Still a little dazed (somehow, Shun looked exceptionally tall, dark, and handsome tonight), Mizushima nodded, and the two men spent some time discussing the details of the day’s capture. However, Mizushima started at the sound of a “thud” below stairs.

“Thunnnder and blast!” Shun groaned hastily, trying to cover the moment. Hiro looked at him strangely. “I…I…believe I have pulled a muscle.” Hiro was inclined to believe him, as he certainly did seem to be in pain as he uttered the words.

“Er…perhaps you would…massage it?” Shun felt his mouth go dry. Hiro looked startled but slowly nodded, unconsciously licking his lips as he approached him.

At the touch of Hiro’s gentle fingers on his shoulder and neck, Shun had to remind himself quite sternly that this was an assignment. But now that Hiro was so near, just beside him and looking quite beautiful…

The clang of a sword reverberated faintly upwards from a lower level. Panicking at the sound, Sho turned and seized Hiro, pressing his lips against his desperately and tangling his hands in his hair (and over his ears). Hiro started and moved as if to break away, but after a moment he began responding passionately to the kiss. Shun’s eyes rolled back into his head as Hiro’s tongue entered his mouth. _Maybe this was true love_ …

 

*

 

Jun and Toma snuck up silently on the guards, attacking them from behind and instantly gagging them with a piece of cloth, leaving Aiba with the sweaty work of wrestling them into submission and binding their hands and feet. Sho (much to his displeasure---surely his talents were being underutilized?) was given the task of lookout. There were several chancy moments when the guards closest to the cells sensed their approach and met them with drawn swords (the clang of steel seemed to reverberate like a clap of thunder in the still night), but the four men were able to quickly overwhelm the guards. Signaling to the prisoners to remain silent, Jun unlocked their cells (pausing to embrace a freed Ohno and Nino), and the crew of the Storm made a silent and most orderly exit through the front door of the jail, where the men scattered with plans to reconvene later and attempt to re-capture the Storm. 

“Captain Oguri?” Jun mouthed to Toma as they stood at the prison doors, watching the crew file past. 

Toma winked at him. “Do not fear, he will be well taken care of,” he answered quietly, with his characteristic grin.

“I have been trying to match those two for some time. I believe this was just the push they required.”

 

*

 

Late that night and into the early hours of the morning, Toma’s hideout was host to a lively celebration, as the six men feasted on food picked up from street vendors and drank to celebrate their escape. All exchanged manly embraces and praised each other’s fortitude until Aiba and Ohno were weeping noisily together, repeating over and over again how much they loved the crew of the Storm (“And Toma!” Aiba cried).

Having drunk enough to feel that it was incumbent upon him to make some kind of speech, Toma stood atop the room’s table and raised his glass, calling out “Ahoy maties!” to command the attention of the room.

“Ahoy!” the five cried, raising their glasses.

“I propose a toast,” Toma beamed, surveying the room’s happily-matched couples and a shyly-smiling Jun. “To the crew of the Storm, and to Shun!” (“And Toma!” Aiba called). With a gracious nod, Toma continued, “To the pirates of the Storm! Whereas other pirates may use violence and torture to accomplish their dastardly deeds, only the crew of the Storm knows how to kill their enemies with kindness! While she may not have the most fearsome Captain,” (Ohno nodded complacently), “or a capable first mate” (“Oi!” cried Sho), “her crew will assuredly render her opponents prisoners…of love. To love!” cried Toma, raising his glass sloppily and looking directly at Jun.

“To love,” Jun responded with a smile. The rest cried “Kyuuu!” at the sight of the lovesick couple but then called out resoundingly, “To love!”

“And to the spirit of scientific inquiry!” Sho smiled at Aiba.

“To the honor of a gentleman!” Aiba cried, stumbling into Sho’s arms.

“To friendship,” Nino offered quietly, smiling at Aiba and glancing at Ohno.

“And to extraordinary bravery,” Ohno concluded, reaching for Nino’s hand.

After several rounds of toasting, even Sho and Toma were the best of friends, seated with their arms about each other’s shoulders and laughing helplessly while Aiba and Jun re-enacted Sho’s infamous “plank catch” aboard the SS Poole.

Eventually, all six passed out: Sho and Aiba with their legs tucked under the table, Ohno and Nino near the window, and Jun and Toma on the bed rolls that they had abandoned so many hours before.

 

*

 

The next morning, the whole company---except for Ohno, who seemed no different than usual---was nursing a hangover (Ohno woke when Nino opened the window at dawn, and he had rubbed Nino’s back while the man vomited profusely onto the street).

Now, the six spoke quietly of what was to be done with the Storm, and their new status as fugitives; after all, the guards last night had observed their faces. Sho (who seemed to have been hit particularly hard by last night’s drinking) followed the conversation with his cheek pressed into the table while Aiba ran a soothing hand up and down his back.

Ohno and Nino were surprised but delighted by Sho’s decision to join Aiba in the Amazon; Ohno was pleased that Sho would not be parted from Aiba, and Nino felt relieved that Aiba would have a (somewhat) reliable companion to keep him in check. Ohno and Nino would have retuned to the Storm, but the difficulties were considerable; the ship needed to be recaptured and the crew assembled, but Ohno was well known and Nino’s distinctively-scarred visage difficult to conceal.

Jun cleared his throat. “I have a proposal,” he began. The other’s exchanged smiles and looked at him expectantly (Sho turned to the other cheek so that he was facing Jun).

Jun flushed and looked at the table, but he seemed determined to continue and spoke clearly, “What if I was to captain the Storm for a time? I know I have not been the most reliable, but I would take the charge very seriously, and…perhaps with Toma as first mate?” Jun trailed off softly, glancing hesitantly at Toma, who smiled widely and nodded. Seeming to draw courage from Toma’s response, Jun finished confidently, “I believe the two of us could recapture the ship.”

The men looked at each other in silence, considering Jun’s proposal. Finally, Aiba spoke up in a soft voice, “My work would be far more valuable if I had a capable illustrator with me.” He looked nervously at Ohno.

“And our chances of survival much greater with an excellent physician,” Sho managed hoarsely, raising his head to meet Nino’s eyes.

Ohno looked to Nino, who was biting his lip thoughtfully. “Jun,” he finally spoke, continuing in a measured tone, “would you swear to me on your love for Toma that---if you recapture and captain the Storm---your first voyage would be to England, where you would personally deliver my share of the treasure into the hands of my mother?”

Jun nodded seriously while Toma blushed. “I swear it on my love for Toma.”

“Then I am satisfied,” Nino grinned. “And I must still be intoxicated because, if Ohno agrees, I would be happy to join Aiba’s idiotic adventure.” Ohno nodded, and the six men beamed at each other.

“Thank you for your trust,” Jun offered earnestly. Jun must have still been a bit drunk as well, because he continued, growing misty-eyed. “Though I shall be sad to part from you all, my dear companions and brothers in arms.”

Aiba immediately flushed with excitement and tears sparkled in his eyes. “Jun,” he cried passionately, “your sentiment is admirable and so very…very…beautiful,” he gasped, managing to complete the sentence just before emptying the contents of his stomach onto Toma’s breakfast table.

“Gahh!” cried Nino. Jun reached over to hit Aiba across the back of the head, purposely turning the ring-side of his hand inward for maximum effect. Sho’s eyes watered, and he looked ready to vomit himself. Ohno gazed idly out the window, thinking that the fine morning promised a beautiful day.

 

* * *

 

One year later, the SS Storm returned to harbor at Rio (Shun had already convinced Hiro that the two of them and Kazu should vacation in the countryside that weekend), where the crew of the ship greeted four extremely tanned---and in Aiba’s and Ohno’s case, extensively tattooed---men, who had emerged from the jungle just a few days earlier.

“Shiver me timbers!” cried Toma, who was quite zealous about acting the part of a pirate. “I am delighted to see you all still alive,” he smiled, while Jun embraced each man in turn.

“No thanks to these simpletons,” Nino responded with a roll of his eyes, gesturing towards Aiba and Sho. Most of Nino’s scars had faded, except for the striking one above his left eye. Ohno immediately removed a hand-carved blow gun and began to demonstrate its uses to Toma.

After returning from their expedition, all four men spent some time aboard the Storm with Jun and Toma. However, the Storm had changed greatly since they last boarded it. The men now sailed under the banner of “The Flower Four”; Jun and Toma had picked up two lovely young ladies called Inoue Mao and Horikita Maki, who had quickly turned into two of the most ferocious pirates the men had ever encountered (indeed, Jun and Toma had to constantly caution them against unnecessary violence). Jun and Toma had taken them with plans to ransom them back to their families at a high price, but the two women were so adamant in their desire to avoid their upcoming marriages (a desire that was explained when Jun spied the two kissing passionately in the crow’s nest), and both proved so skilled in piracy that Jun and Toma allowed them to stay. Mao possessed a gift for strategy equal to Jun’s, while Maki’s gentle and even sleepy demeanor---like Ohno’s---concealed her fearsome skill with a sword and set of pistols.

Sho and Aiba left the Storm after several months to continue their travels and prepare Aiba’s study for publication. Ohno and Nino remained on board and helped to capture the wealth of illegal slave-trading ships that roamed the coast of the Americas. They grew so gifted at this particular task that they soon found themselves transformed from pirates to privateers, commissioned by the British government to patrol the Caribbean and seize illegal traders. After a few years of privateering, the four felt confident leaving the Storm in Mao and Maki’s capable hands---both women swore they would never return to shore and life in corsets. So Ohno, Nino, Jun and Toma returned to England where, with Nino’s mother and sister, they settled in the neighborhood of Aiba’s family estate.

Never content to be idle, Jun, partnering with Ohno, began a second career in men’s fashion, specializing in stage costumes and (of course) piratical productions. Though he was now wealthy enough to make any profession un-necessary. Nino continued to practice medicine and was soon highly valued by the entire county for his skills (particularly in tooth-pulling). In his practice, he was often assisted by Ohno (or “captain,” as Nino would forever call him---the name also proved popular with the neighborhood children). Toma bred and raised horses and was much admired for his ability to tame even the wildest and most difficult of animals. Although the neighborhood had at first looked askance at this strange crew of men, they were soon universally beloved, with their elaborately-costumed and performed Christmas plays---which always featured some tale of adventure on the high seas---particularly anticipated.

Sho and Aiba spent several years traveling the world, even spending a year in Japan, where Sho finally discovered a style of fighting that he was proficient at: nunchaku. He often reflected sadly how very impressive he might have appeared to Aiba the first time they met if only he had known about such weapons then. It was also in Japan that Aiba discovered the second love of his life: mabo tofu. The two were considering settling in Japan for some time when they received a letter announcing the marriage of Nino’s sister to Aiba’s brother that summer. The couple decided that it was time to return to England.

After the wedding, the happy couple moved to their own estate nearby, and Aiba agreed to finally accept his inheritance. He continued his experiments and studies where he had begun them as a child---on the grounds of his family estate. Sho attended to the estate and its tenants, introducing useful reforms and greatly improving the happiness and welfare of the surrounding villages.

Five years after their second meeting in Rio, the six men gathered to celebrate the publication of Aiba’s masterwork, illustrated by Ohno and edited by Sho: _A Rational Account and Study of the Western Hemisphere’s Animal Inhabitants_ (Aiba had selected the title).

Basking in the sincere well-wishes of his friends, Aiba surveyed the happy gathering---Toma and Jun walking quietly in the garden, Nino arguing loudly as Ohno attempted to correct his croquet form---more delighted at the friendship that surrounded him than the publication of his book. Aiba turned to Sho with a smile as he gestured towards the book, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of Sho’s handsome face. “It will not completely upend the theories of the Royal Society, but it should at least cause a ripple in a few scientific circles.”

Sho smiled as he reached out an arm to pull Aiba up against him. “I am certain that it will cause a storm throughout the world,” he replied.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fan fiction I ever wrote, it's nostalgic to see it again as I repost it here ^^


End file.
